A French monk wipes
the shell of an egg
on the serge of black.
He walks slowly
in sandaled feet
across the cloister,
his shadow following
close behind.
I pick apples
from the apple trees
in the abbey orchard,
my fingers twisting
as I'd be shown
-she mouthed
my fingers
one by one,
******* them
to a strawberry ripeness-
Dom Leo takes
the breviary
from the shelf
beside his hip,
opens to the right page,
eyes scanning
the script
- I watched her
as she slowly stripped.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
A French monk wipes
the shell of an egg
on the serge of black.
He walks slowly
in sandaled feet
across the cloister,
his shadow following
close behind.
I pick apples
from the apple trees
in the abbey orchard,
my fingers twisting
as I'd be shown
-she mouthed
my fingers
one by one,
******* them
to a strawberry ripeness-
Dom Leo takes
the breviary
from the shelf
beside his hip,
opens to the right page,
eyes scanning
the script
- I watched her
as she slowly stripped.
A NOVICE AND MONKS IN AN ABBEY IN 1971
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