# 35

By Anselm Parlatore

As from oracle to tabernacle
So to remove, so to embrace their Love
—Geoffrey Hill  “Oraclau 23”
Whereof we are begotten, made
Of such grace patron or parent even;
Love our bespoken accolade;
Geoffrey Hill  “Oraclau 25”





It’s what remains, a refined sediment

glistening this snow silently accumulating

heft & weave of searching, signing on

archeologically never to be discovered

your newly designed necklaces attenuated, wisps

of our former elegance, shimmering ruins

silvery their perfect clasps, our language,

my poems beneath all our remembrances.




Such exhilirants concealing any grace

still unmutilated & free, fringed

these snow-laden cedars bending

a supplication at the mere suggestion

of myth, bird, spider-less: dream.

so Elizabethan, paeans to neither Zero

or Emily’s Phosphorous, our glaciers approaching.




& the austere Pities their plumage

immaculate, the tissue of their wings

veiled griefs hovering, the wounding

light filtered through choicest rafts

of still moist bones, extruded into the emptied

husks of the dead: only the pastoral’s survivors

still wandering, searching for their loved ones.



Anselm Parlatore studied creative writing @ Cornell & Dartmouth & edited Granite & Bluefish magazines. He has taught in “Poetry in the Schools Program” in NH & in NY. He has published over a dozen volumes of poetry & has published work in many magazines. He lives in Washington.

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