The Presentation at the Temple The room smells of their sweat, perfume, and oils. Light stirs the dust gathered beneath his easel, The folds of her robes. Bellini has sketched her Often, and he can follow the curves of her lips, Her eyelids, without thinking about it. He Hasn’t yet chosen a model for the child Or for the high priest, but the priest’s robes Will be a red brocade and the child swaddled In linen, prepared already for his grave. For the Madonna, only a light scarf, No halos or other evidence of divinity. Her earlobe pierced, but without a ring, she’ll hold The child upright, close, and the priest’s hands Will reach across a parapet. Time stops. The witnesses will glance side to side, Cautious as prisoners awaiting execution. George Franklin George Franklin is the recipient of the 2023 W.B. Yeats Poetry Prize and the author of six poetry collections. The most recent are Remote Cities (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2023) and a collaboration with Colombian poet Ximena Gómez, Conversaciones sobre agua/Conversations About Water (Katakana Editores, 2023). Recent individual publications include Another Chicago Magazine, The Decadent Review, Cultural Daily, and The Ekphrastic Review. He practices law in Miami and teaches poetry workshops in Florida prisons.
1 Comment
Barbara Sabol
10/9/2023 08:54:50 am
Such an exquisite poem in response to an exquisite painting. Spare, but finely detailed; the poignant details of how the baby's linen swathing foretells his destiny, the haloed earring, the parapet (to my reading) as a barrier across which the baby is handed to the priest. Really gorgeous.
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This site uses cookies to deliver your best navigation experience this time and next. Continuing here means you consent to cookies. Thank you. Join us on Facebook:
September 2024
|