Altars and Flags

By KAREN CHASE

My windowsill, that skinny altar
above the kitchen sink, helps me
combine death with wind,
and air with birth—
fire, water, time, dirt.


Holy marble tag sale mule that looks Greek,
Holy fishing lure from Race Point,
Holy viburnum leaf.
3 holy photos of my father and me,
Holy wishbone,
Masada rock, Menemsha stone,
Holy tin of pimenton,
Ganesh festooned by holy Solomon.

Then, through the pane of glass,
I look out past the garden remains
to raggedy prayer flags blowing
and blown, another season gone.

 

 

Karen Chase is the author of two collections of poetry, Kazimierz Square and Bear, and the award-winning non-fiction book Land of Stone.

Click here to purchase Issue 03

Altars and Flags

Related Posts

Mesquite plant

July 2021 Poetry Feature: Burlin Barr

BURLIN BARR
but the wolf tree was there and there was a place where // trophies hung: entire / bodies slung there in semi permanence // turning into everything / imaginable between a fresh body and shit and a variety // of trash; except Otis; he kept his right in front / of the house even

Recife, Brazil

Translation: Poems by Lara Solórzano Damasceno

LARA SOLÓRZANO DAMASCENO
Nosotras, who for millennia have steered warships, / sailing through seas made invisible. / Nosotras, who walked barefoot through valleys of stinging nettle, had our name ripped from the book of history / our biography from the scientific treatises

Ice fishing

June 2021 Poetry Feature

CORRIE WILLIAMSON
You lamented the absence of a human sound for longing, / like the loon has, like the wolf. I think of you reading / to your donkey the day he died, the passage where Odysseus / kisses the soil, how the beast moved away from you, / stood quietly in the clover, then returned...