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Authors & Articles > St. Anthony at Fifteen
Poetry, Spring 1974   [Print article] [E-mail to a friend]
 
St. Anthony at Fifteen
by Richard Cecil
 

What's hard, sandy, and won't crush
like sweet olives against my lips?
I lie on barbed wire but dream
of caves plushed with skin. My mind's
lined with vaseline, my body cups
like a breast against the sheet.
Think of angels. Their marble knees
streaked with veins, their thighs
locked against the touch
that spreads the skin alive —
they lean their nipples into my face
and whisper "grace" and "pure."
My hairs curl under rising sheets
like monkey's fur; five-fingered
enemies want to crack my cage.
Will it hold?
Can skin dance rigid against bone
til the whites of my eyes
break and dreams leak through?
But my palms sweat for sleep —
its velvet curl against curl
when the mind is dead and hands
root in their sweet element.
Oh christ send toads and spiders
to crawl with me tonight.


Copyright © Richard Cecil
Buy This Issue
Spring 1974 Cover
Cover art by Arthur Berger

Guest-edited by
Fanny Howe

Poetry & Fiction
Issue #5
Vol. 02/1
ISBN: 0933277474
Price: $20.00 02/26/1974
 
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