Baptism
Baptism
Luca D’Anselmi
We can’t baptize the dead. Just wrap him in
the shawl you once embroidered with the moon
affixing its red light on ten virgins
who fall asleep. They cannot hear the groom
calling from beyond the cypresses.
But in the corner one has left her lamp
burning all night, although her sister says
it’s low on oil; she replies that hope
sows not, reaps not, saves not, without a thought
burns now what others keep to burn tomorrow.
Then place his body in a little pot,
and put it with the others in the furrow
beneath the monastery eaves, where rain
may do what by our hands could not be done:
drip Father, Son, and Spirit, Father, Son…
Luca D'Anselmi
Poet & Teacher
Luca teaches Latin and Greek at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary in Overbrook, PA. His poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in The Hopkins Review, Blue Unicorn, and Wine Cellar Press.
Photography by Isil KRB