Matins
On nights my body’s faulty wiring
jolts me from a dream of static,
I rise–a ghost rehearsing breath.
Then the blue fills the room.
A lecture murmurs: “Desert hermits,
stretched on faith, starved
for visions in the sand.”
I doze, I settle, I smoke and inhale
the lines of their devotion—its relentless
work.
What hunger built those monasteries?
Not mine, no–
very unlike this one: my solitary den
and the streetlight’s smear on pill bottles.
Dawn bleeds at the window’s edge.
The birds and cicadas call a chaos,
a code I am not meant to understand.
But I do listen. And prepare for the day
to be reset
as it is each morning. I am urgent.
The air fills my cracked lungs
like the bitter thick of coffee.
18 thoughts on "Matins"
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I like “a ghost rehearsing breath” and how it works with “I am urgent.”
Wow ….the language of this is stellar. I can’t put my finger on the voicing but I know it,have known it.
Incredible poem Shaun flat out Incredible.
Damn. Now this is one hell of a poem, Shaun. The message’s might and the way you capture each image and feeling is impressive. What a great write!
Very powerful.
Love “the birds and cicadas call a chaos” and “prepare for the day to be reset”
“But I do listen” encapsulates this whole wonderfully rich poem! Love this!
The tone and diction here remind me of Robert Lowell, one of my heroes. Really fine stuff, Shaun.
I was chatting about you over lunch with Kevin this week. We were talking about your excellent writing and about how you’ve grown!
Great work, Shaun! I’ll be reading this again.
I mean… holy word choices, man. Favorites: what hunger built… streetlight’s smear… dawn bleeds… wow.
the notion of prayer in the title, the mention of “Desert hermits,” and the faith suggested by “reset” bring the prophet Elijah to my mind. your poem redefines the word “tension”
such a menagerie of fluid images. Nicely done!
What a rich, resonant poem. All of it is a wonder, but those last two lines hit hard.
So many great lines in this evocative poem. I love these:
I doze, I settle, I smoke and inhale
the lines of their devotion—its relentless
work.
But I do listen
the hallmark of the poet
Powerful, Shaun–the monastery imagery rings true, and resets for your reality.
Oh, my heart! Every line! Oh, my heart!
This is amazing! I love the power of that short sentence. “But I do listen.” which follows the many powerful verbs that fuel the poem.
“The birds and cicadas call a chaos,
a code I am not meant to understand.”
That line is 🔥