Annunciation
Blessed, blessed
are you, for
I
will make you weep
when the light hits the grass
in the morning.
I will make you crave
conversation like red
meat, lay you
weak, at the feet
of strangers. I will open
lives like vistas
before you
that you will never
seal.
Every
beautiful thing
will come to you and press
against your flesh.
There is nothing
that will not call
your name, nothing
that you will not long
to possess, nothing
that will not offer up red
kisses, coupling,
seeping into the roots
of the world.
I
will deceive you,
tell you all you need is a
mouthful, but in truth,
I know the desire
I infect you with is
boundless.
See, how the red shoes
I bind to you prick
your feet,
hungry for the beat
and sway
of note upon note,
paint upon paint,
word upon word,
blood from blood.
Blessed, oh! blessed
are you.
---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
To read more about what prompted this poem, see previous post: Painter: Lucian Freud
Poetry Friday roundup is at Mentor Texts and More.
