BY JESSICA REIDY
Sub Napoli: ode to the skeleton bride of the catacombs
In the search for orange
blossoms I dug my trowel into raw soil,
stirred, and felt an aching in the fort.
The earth at Napoli is the blood
of Vesuvius; the dust of mummified bodies
rubbed with oil of myrrh, smoked
by incense; and ripe tomatoes.
Worship these skulls, nameless as children,
their faces shed for their remainders. Pray
to anonymous rib cages so they do for you
what you do for them. A film
of cinder dust coats the long-gone tongues.
I am you, they chanted
in piles of volcanic mud, in blazing
catacombs. In the orange light
petals tumble and crown the bride taken
after her conjugal rites, her cheekbones
sharp and white, her sockets stuffed
with gentian from well-wishers, from pilgrims.
Young women asked her for blessings, find me
a husband—bring me the luck you lost. Does death
give you the broken pieces to give away?
I am you, she replies.
Blossoms turn up their stamen faces
all ash and oil down these understreets.
Jessica Reidy is a Brooklyn-based writer and professor. She is the winner of the Penelope Nivens award for Creative nonfiction, and her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have appeared in Narrative Magazine as Short Story of the Week, The Los Angeles Review, Prairie Schooner, and other journals. She’s a Kripalu-certified yoga instructor, offering yoga and creative writing workshops. She also works her Romani (“Gypsy”) family trades, fortune telling, energy healing, and dancing. Additionally, she is an artist and art model working with a number of artists and studios in the city. She is currently writing her first book.
