Tom Sleigh Poems
|1.||On The Platform||7/14/2014|
|5.||Song That Can Only Be Sung Once||7/14/2014|
|8.||The Last Word?||7/14/2014|
|9.||The Parallel Cathedral||7/14/2014|
|11.||On The Yard||7/14/2014|
|12.||Stone God And Goddess In An Ark||7/14/2014|
|14.||A Wedding At Cana, Lebanon, 2007||7/14/2014|
|20.||The Animals In The Zoo Don'T Seem Worried||7/14/2014|
My mother and I and the dog were floating
Weightless in the kitchen. Silverware
Hovered above the table. Napkins drifted
Just below the ceiling. The dead who had been crushed
By gravity were free to move about the room,
To take their place at supper, lift a fork, knife, spoon—
A spoon, knife, fork that, outside this moment's weightlessness,
Would have been immovable as mountains.
My mother and I and the dog were orbiting
In the void that follows after happiness
Of an intimate gesture: Her hand stroking the dog's head
And the dog looking up, expectant, into ...
The Parallel Cathedral
The cathedral being built
around our split level house was so airy, it stretched
so high it was like a cloud of granite
and marble light the house rose up inside.
At the time I didn't notice masons laying courses
of stone ascending, flying buttresses
pushing back forces that would have crushed our flimsy wooden beams.
But the hammering and singing of the guilds went on