“The Book of Kells” by Joy Manesiotis (poetry ’86)

“The Book of Kells” by Joy Manesiotis (poetry ’86), published by Poetry.

The Book of Kells

But then four crows—no, maybe ravens—those large, black birds big as dogs, 
like gentlemen, crossed the path, looking up, contemplating something invisible,

feathers on their crowns at attention, as if waxed into style, sun polishing each upright stalk, 
asphalt, grass visible between each black spear, the way, when younger, we spiked

our hair before dancing all night at an after-hours club, but I don’t know
what it means now: Rocking gait: slow procession: pondering a shared question—

unseen force drawing them across the road or a predator overhead
or walking away from despair hidden in the heart. She looks

to be holding a miniature man in her lap, the Mary of Kells. He has
two left feet. And she stares, her face a mask of sorrow, eyes flattened, looking ahead.

[…continue reading “The Book of Kells” at Poetry.]