Many of us have lost track of the Oracle of Delphi these last 3000 years. That doesn't mean she's been quiet. Historically she was consulted before all major decisions, like going to war.

Kenneth P. Gurney lives in Albuquerque, NM. His work appears mostly on the web as he spends SASE and reading fee dollars on flowers for his lover. To learn more about Kenneth, visit http://www.kpgurney.me/Poet/Welcome.html



FLUID SHAPE OF AN EMPTY WOMB

I am holy, Delphi murmurs to herself, as she turns a rose quartz pebble
over in her hand, recites an invented, non-linear rosary
where the crystal is all of the one hundred and eight beads simultaneously.

She weighs the idea of soul in her left hand and then her right
and measures a difference as stark as the red-canvas tennis shoe
half buried in the river bank when compared to the steady V of cranes
traversing the vernal sky.

Delphi mulls in her left mind a theoretical diploid cell with a simple count
of neutrons, protons, atomic mass of varying isotopes assumed average,
and in her right the connected expanse of zygote to the stone she sits upon,
the river with its muddy banks, the old railroad bridge with its rust
and bird nests where the swallows take insects back to feed their young.

She holds her longing up to the sun, examines it in both light and shadow,
fails to determine if it exists in her as an emptiness or substantial mass,
but her longing weighs upon her eyes and halts her nightly reading of constellations.

I am holy, Delphi repeats to the budding tree and fingers the branch
that tangles her hair when the breeze exerts just enough force
to bend the bough and brush her.

A soul stands outside of gravity’s application, speaks its own language,
points out the billowing clouds as they slip under the bridge
on the deceptively calm face of the merciless river, which,
by bits and wholes, carries the dead down to the sea.


Poetry submissions are welcome. Email theditchrider@gmail.com. The whole Sunday Poem series is available from the front page of the DCF by clicking on The DitchRider in the left-hand sidebar. Poems early in the series are archived under "previous post" at the bottom of The DitchRider blog.