-A Modern Version of the Way the Rosary Was Once Said Throughout Western Europe in the Late Middle Ages-
DARA WIER

I'm not sewing velvet patches on a woolen blanket,

not putting silver buttons back where they belong,

not sweeping or folding, not in my right mind,

not knowing what I owe or to whom I should

bow down or thank or praise, no neither am

I putting aside, not storing up good deeds

I'll need when I need bailing out, not putting

my house in order, no, not preparing

to meet my maker, no, nor do I wish to settle

old scores, no not keeping wolves at bay,

and I'm not disturbing antbeds, not in touch

with fine madness, no, I'm not crawling around

under a porch in search of a nest of puff adders

I hope not to find, no, I'm not skipping rocks,

nor counting how long it takes a ship's wake

to subside, nor waiting for the big one

to wash ashore and overwhelm its iffy bitty

ancestors, no, I'm not trying to fathom a stew

of rotten flowers and rainwater I'm not pouring

from a vase at the left-hand backcorner of a

freshly white-washed tomb, no, I'm not getting

ready for company, not biting my tongue, though

a little bit of biting can feel good, not baring

my soul, I'm not hiding under the kitchen table

not wanting to listen anymore, not lost in a

camphor-reeking satchel inside a chifferobe,

not stretching under a bed on a cool linoleum

floor, no, I'm not sitting on top of a mule

surveying the sun and the moon, nor am I stirring

and stirring and stirring a roux, nor am I watching

strands of hot sugar fall into cool water, no

I'm not climbing into a fig tree to be close

to mockingbirds and out of the way of hoopsnakes,

and I'm not falling asleep next to a crate of melons,

nor am I staying awake in case I might miss something,

no, I'm not staring forever into a fire,

nor walking through a rainstorm into a cypress

grove, no, and I'm not waiting for lightning

to strike, no, and I'm not pulling aside a

curtain so I can't see a man with a raccoon

looking over his shoulder or a woman holding

a cup of steaming coffee or hear what's passing

between them, or see a man at the end of a day

taking off his shoes, or a boy dressed in clerical

clothes dispensing frankincense, or a hand

shifting into reverse, or a hand turning numbers

to get into a safe, no I'm not sitting on top

of a mule surveying the sun and the moon.