Illustration by Daya CallanDame Edith tells the story of a Catholic girl
who fell in love with a Protestant boy.
She was determined not to let a little matter
of sects get in the way of her happiness.
It didn’t harm that Ed loved stories
as much as she did. They wrote of words.
Asking Jesus’ mom for guidance;
the Virgin Mother let all the flowers
in the garden bloom the next morning.
Edith had her answer.
They married, had kids, didn’t exactly
live happily ever after (Ed went away)
but were as close as they could get
to ecstasy and literary paradise –-
words brilliantly uncommon,
words garden variety, words warring
east and west, words begat worlds.
At St. Therese’s little church
north and south united.
Blades swirled in blurred motion,
poetry bouquet caught in blades.
Petals and blood nectar splattered
Edith’s story in sequel.
The necklace winds its way
back down to the clasp.
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