Relic
As to relics:
there are three orders of magnitude:
for the first the saint is dug
from his years of rest,
a ghost bone taken,
shattered lovingly
with hammer blows
and the infinite particulate, packaged.
Then the second order:
something touched by him,
perhaps a scrap of clothing,
that he slept or ate in,
with the smell of him still
in its arid weave,
echoing his rigid sainthood.
Last but not lost:
new cloth must drape his cere limbs
then that be taken, scissored
and each microchip of bone white linen
sieve him through it.
He is gone and continues.
Paul Bregazzi’s poetry has appeared widely in print and on-line in Ireland, the U.K., France, Mexico and the U.S. His work has been shortlisted and awarded in numerous competitions in Europe and the U.S., including the Bridport Prize. He was Cuirt New Writer of the Year 2017.
Amethyst Review 