Bliss

Several years ago I wrote a series of poems inspired by verses of Christmas carols. Since I won't be blogging this weekend, I've set these to post every so often instead. Merry Christmas! Season's Greetings! This one was inspired by the line from "In the Bleak Midwinter" that says, "worship the beloved with a kiss." Margaret was about a year old when I wrote this.

worship though it’s embarrassing, like talking in one’s sleep or feeling milk chortle out the nose. it is unseemly, the amnesia of the self, the adoration unto death, the testimony, against the evidence, that there is only this:

the beloved addressing her: be loved, as i am. you cradle me, but it is i who will save you, gather you back from the abyss;

with a pair of eyes studying her face, with her palm cooling the fevered brow, with humming, light as angels; with her arm, taut beneath a small body; with an ever-deepening night, with all the time in the world, with a kiss.