Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Prayer Plant by Sinead Morrisey

It was given to me small, whorled like my brother's tongue
in the game when we were children, its three leaves
wrapped up tight in themselves, barred as an oyster.

I can scarcely remember what happened in between:
how many months (or pots) it took to enter
its own abundance. Now it hangs full and excitable

over my fireplace, concerned mostly with maintenance.
Come morning, after I've moved all night from room
to room in search of sleep, and I can sometimes witness it

lower its fringe of adjustable oars beneath the rim
of its lazuli bowl, as though blushing, or weeping.
Then, by evening, before the sky has acknowledged that

-already- the light is draining, catch it levering
its slow arms towards heaven again, mindful as Islam.
is it praying in the dark or in the daytime?


Mog said...

That's just lovely Mizztumnus, just lovely. I'm a big fan of Sinéad - her stuff is brilliantly written - sometimes delicate, sometimes fierce. She's got a lovely touch - "mindful as Islam" - what a gorgeous trinity of words for the second last line.

mister tumnus said...

yes, i love her work. she reads it so beautifully too.

thanks for reading mistermogster x

jdaviddark said...

entering into our own abundance. why does that embarrass me? i so have to get set free. it's on my "to do" list right next to "do or do not. there is no try".
you are such a good payer attention-er. thankyou S!