Two poems by George Ella Lyon
Someone wails / in the basement / of my dream. / Amid the wailing / I hear a welter of water.
RIVEN
I race down stairs
steeper, darker
than those in
my waking house.
Someone wails
in the basement
of my dream.
Amid the wailing
I hear a welter of water.
I thread through
three turns
to the bathroom,
three turns
to see
my dark-suited husband and son
standing side by side in the shower.
Side by side both cry, facing me,
but it is my son who is wailing.
The threshold won’t let me pass.
All I can do is witness
how they remain clothed, how
they do not turn to each other.
WHAT BECAME OF THE GODDESS
Our Lady of Consolation
robed in a bride’s dress
locked in a glass box
on the edge
of the Franciscan’s meadow.
Her bare foot crushes
the snake which was
her power.
Mary, named
Immaculate
never part of it
really
this sinful meadow
lusty with thistles, every petal
sexual.
Shrunk to a doll
wearing taffeta and lace
she stares through dirty glass
safe from dew and pollen
holding Jesus, her fruit.
O Mary, once you strode
these fields full-breasted–
you as Source, not vessel.
Now they’ve nailed you up
under glass at the edge
of this glory.
They call it a shrine,
call your murder
Our Lady of Consolation.
George Ella Lyon, Kentucky Poet Laureate (2015-2016), has published in many genres, including picture books, poetry, novels, short stories, and a memoir. Her poem “Where I’m From” has gone around the world as a writing model. Her most recent collections include She Let Herself Go(LSU, 2012) and Many-Storied House(Univ. Press of Ky, 2013). She makes her living as a freelance writer and teacher based in Lexington. For more information, visit http://www.georgeellalyon.com.