Poetry Pick

Dia di los Muertos

by Mary Ann Mulhern


I'm tired of dark cemetary tales
haunted ghosts and ghouls
skeletons dancing in pale lunar light

I know the people
in this holy place
the family doctor
whose hands drove pain from flesh and bone
the neighbour who took pictures my father could send
across the sea
the woman down the road who sewed my dresses every year
the farmer who brought us meat, butter and eggs

I want to bring armfuls of orange blossoms
baskets of pomegranates, bottles of wine
burn a thousand candles to celebrate
a day of the dead
enter into their circle
call each of them by name
listen for an answer
their remembrance familiar
warm as breath

From TOUCH THE DEAD (Black Moss Press, 2006)


 

Index Previous Pick