apple-eating heathen (thisistheplan) wrote,
apple-eating heathen

Saint Munditia: Patron Saint of Spinsters

Here, have a poem. (I have two minutes of mental break)

St. Munditia
VAHNI CAPILDEO, from the collection "No Traveller Returns"

What have you seen today, my dear?

The female tourist.

Turning to her fear, to the unlit room,
taking it in, with a kind of disregard,
opened her eyes on what lay back of the
unlined curtains, she stuck her breasts like mouths
into the dark, told them, Swallow, swallow.
So it was that sleep was wished upon her.

Is St. Munditia
Patron Saint of Single Women,
those who live alone,
bachelor queens, spinsters, solteras.
Take a good look.
St. Munditia.
Dug up from her burial
a millenium and a third since the flesh fell off her.
She's back in church.

Was it easy for you to find, my dear?

But the preliminaries...

The people lounge on the london steps,
queuin for europea tourist visas,
getting used to no shelter.
It can't rain all the time.
The man with the blue umbrella
stabs between the feet of fellow strangers.

Look, the would-be travellers,
they're after culture.
People hanging on to a mystique,
they hail from the wrong area.
Ticketed and quizzed
like a load of illegal orange-pickers.
Look at the faces,
those london faces,
it's everyone you don't think of,
when you think of europe's nations.
It's like going home.
"Impossible to issue."
Alien spouse.
The wife's denied.
Mother and child,
Waiting to be allowed to love?
The lucky ones are stamped,
the lucky ones are charged.
What fun.
At the airport, it'l start again.
Places that don't care a straw for their prayers.
Let the journey begin.

Wasn't the weather brilliant?


Magnetised by tunes, a walking jangle,
the flip of a cape, the end of the day,
jackboots under sequins, satin jockstrap,
a sunset cocktail for the happy hour,
the god apollo giving up the mike,
a new song slashed for its virus asterisk.

St. Munditia,
centuries later,
bewigged, bolted and belted with jewels,
a skimpy skeleton in a cheesecake posture
ribs full of air,
half sitting up,
ready to launch into an aria,
glassed off like the snake room at the zoo.

You saw...?

Tags: for everyone to see, picture pictures, the pen is mightier
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