knot

in sunday school we learned
that monks used to make knots
in their belts to us as rosary beads--

finger & thumb-- 

coarse caress-- 
prayer tangles itself-- 

in fingers-- in bodies--

a fist to hold god in--

how big are your hands?
big enough to tie up god?
fishtail braid him-- 

my mother braided my hair 
only once: a wicker basket--
carried applies & peaches--

pick me up by the stem--

i imagined myself at school 
with a brown monk-robe

counting hail marys as i balanced on
the edge of the playground--

the chain-link fence clanging
beneath my canvas shoes--
i wanted to teach my friends how
to tie knots--

how to make prayer tangible--

something to hold onto--

i left knots everywhere
as if one of them would
catch god by the index finger 

a trap--

i was a girl who set traps--

the draw-strings blinds 
in the sun room--
my mother's spools 
of brown wool yarn--
american girl doll hair--

standing alone in the 
dark sacristy-- 

white altar server robe--

running fingers through the tassels
of the rope wrapped around me--

holding me together-- 
making my own knots--

me-- a Franciscan monk--
vow of silence tied
into my tongue--

opened my mouth to reveal
the twisted cables--

gazing into mirror
pink lips writhing in red string--

i recalled the shrunken 
heads in the museum--

dark thick needle
cinching skin--

where do you tie up your words?

do you send them to god
in the form of a knot?

i pretended each end 
of my altar server chord was
a head of hair-- 

a siren-- long brown
mythical maned--

i went to work--
tangling the chord
beyond recognition--

knots as fists--

pounding on the wooden church doors--

pounding on my own teeth
like draw bridges--

fists clutching in the back of my
own hair--

there i am perched on 
at the kitchen table

as my mother yanked a brush
through the thicket
of my hair-- 

tulip bulbs tangled 
at the base of my neck--

waiting for march--

cut off their necks before
the rain encourages them--

i cut off my own
neck-- 
head poised over 
the bathroom sink--

blood or milk--?

rosary beads round my neck--

my mother said they're no
supposed to be a necklace
but when i was home alone i
wore them anyway--

taking beads between
thumbs & index finger--

un-knotting a prayer 

hail mary hail mary 
the lord is with thee--

did i catch god with one
of those knots?

is he still there waiting--

gentle light coming 
in the sun room windows--

it is always spring--