birthing bells, books and candles...

photo of a carnaval parade in Nice France, courtesy of Reuters © 

faire parade de appliques effritement fleurs peintes

down in the south of France

you hear the ancient call

of calendars by the sea

quickened girls wear flowers

their hair, late February and March

favor seekers line the parade routes

searching out their eyes, petals and

filamentous parts of infinity

the tiny reaches of smiles

cause stains to harbor memory

keeping possible

a few brief irreplaceable

moments of life

in the colored scent

of someone’s ascension

these boulevards

are where smiles

from a maiden

can be laid upon anyone’s

primal thirst sating itself

a Bacchic recollection

telling them

of nature’s origins

tipple through

necks and shoulders

peer a view

le rue de promenade

makes you whole again

no matter how broken

or forgotten

your humanity

might be

and even if it is  

an ever fleeting feeling

while you walk through

the narrow back streets

a few blocks away

from the bustle

you know every

deadly accurate arrow

is ripe air

ghosting your smile

masking your laughter

drawing a map

back to where

you belong

you savor

this cover

for yourself

you stagger drunk

stammer a carnival prayer

Ash Wednesday as a provenance

to feel something

reach out from inside you

all on its own

something

you say to yourself

something

convincing you

to give away a smile, too

in order to chance more time

more living in the lap

of an angel’s wings

floating on by

remembering the Sun

does not hide

all year long

EJR ©