Sister Mary Joseph Serves Lunch in Ávila
Fierce Mother Teresa and quiet Juan,
her much younger, but equally
powerful protégé, can’t stop
themselves from levitating
like thousand-layer cakes
raised by inner fires
when they talk of God.
Bearing trays
of steaming sancocho
I see them as I pass
on my way to the refectory
where as usual
they’ll be late for the meal
but perhaps in time for flan.
We sisters all have visions here
but only those two hang suspended
inches off the chapel floor
float light and open as plastic
sandwich bags
able to hold God’s yeasty thoughts
yet overstuffed
as Swann’s Way
with secrets that, like Marcel,
they can’t help spilling
in a big mess on the tiles,
invisible dust and crumbs
we can’t sweep away
from dark interiors through which Jews
are pushing up.
Teresa and Juan’s sandaled feet
rest on misty shoulders
of his padre, her abuelo,
and other past and future family
members bearing books,
pens, and cans of sauerkraut
come to share today’s midrash
ready to lift these two converso
mystics through the roof.
Catherine Gonick has published poetry in a wide range of journals, including Notre Dame Review, Forge, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, and The Orchards Poetry Journal. Her work has also appeared in such anthologies as plein air, Grabbed, Support Ukraine, and Rumors, Secrets & Lies: Poems About Pregnancy, Abortion and Choice. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, with whom she works in a company devoted to slowing the rate of global warming.
