At St. Ignatius Catholic School for Girls
leaded glass diffuses sunlight
into chapel services Wednesday mornings
Under the weight of their silver crucifixes
twelve kneel as one, tartan hems grazing
the creaking prayer bench
Forgive us our trespasses
A litany of polished penny loafers
toe the floor boards
A dozen ponytails pulled smooth
expose unadorned ears that hear
As we forgive those who trespass
against us
A single snowflake falls outside
And one butterflied ankle
burns beneath a fresh bandage
i am sorry that you requested nitpicking details. it is the very details here that make the whole piece so intriguing for me; that drew me in, in the first place, just to check that it was not my convent boarding school you were talking about.
this is so scarily real that i winced when i first read it.
the deja vu feeling about it though made me laugh, and brought back floods of memories. so much so that i have had to share the link to your page with both of my sisters. all three of us felt the hairs rising on the backs of our necks when we read this.
my first point remains. it is the way that you describe the specific details so cleverly that gives this piece the credibility that makes it so vividly authentic. so if you don't mind, i shall just enjoy this as it is and leave those better qualified to do the nitpicking.
i love the hushed naughtiness to this, and the scene you unravel: all of it fresh, saintly, yet with the sinful tattoo marking humans for what we are... always eager to bite the apple, yet ashamed to show it, knowing the punishment and glares which would happen once this deed was known.
"A litany of polished penny loafers
toe the floor boards"
these lines stood out the most to me; i like the idea of these collection of shoes imbued with a sacred response: the scuffed shoes of one in particular having its own sound, i would imagine.
heh.
the way you segue into your last strophe was a nice surprise, "against us" a perfect way to sew the former and latter together yet apart; your last three lines a graceful and poised counterpoint to each other.
this was an amazing poem...i love that the title doesn't actually sow up in your poem...that may be stupid but i find it more interesting to connect the poem with the title when it doesnot show up...i mean of course we're going to know that the poem is about a tattoo but we did not not it was going to be about a catholic girl confessing her sin, of getting a tattoo...at least that what is seems as though is happening...anyways beautiful description...it's like how i want write...the way you never blantenly say that the girl is just confessing you go about the room and everything surrounding it creating a mood and atmoshpere like you are the eyes moving about looking around listening to all those whispered prayers...beautiful
~taintedsmiles
i remember this
i remember loving it the first time round
and i still adore it.
the piece itself reminds me of a prayer
the romans used to pray huge prayers. the majority of the prayer would set the scene... remind the god who they were and how they had previously shown favour and then the last line would be the confession/request/supplication.
the butterfly burning under the bandage is the confession and im sure the ceasing of the burn would be the request.
i love the way you managed to make the whole room uniformal and yet have the butterfly ankle girl stick out like a sore thumb.
Well, this is just about word perfect for me. My experience with churches and such is limited pretty much to what I've seen on tv.
If anything this is too perfect, the title gives away any surprise and while I appreciate the irony or what have you of 'burns' given appearances and the religious context, it's a postcard of a poem.
I doubt I could ever build a scene with such detail the way you did but then we're probably different in approach if not goals... I want a poem that fights above its weight and if went to the trouble of building such beautiful imagery I wouldn't want to spend that effort on a gum ball and a bubble on the way out.
That's probably entirely too harsh given that you can't judge a poet on just one or two poems.
Submission Name: Tattoo
