Susan B. and Tyson West

Susan B.


Dialogue in a Convent Garden
By Tyson West

Inspiration piece

Sister Barbie: Mother Superior,

Forsake did I the worldly pleasures of woman

Shopping, cleaning up baby urine, puppy poop and the vomit of male egos

For the promise of perfection here.

Speak now I like Yoda

While I seek God’s presence

I smell no purity in flowers dying on the altar

Nor in Mass offered by the whizen Franciscan father

From the shriveling church two blocks away

Words spoken in unerring symmetry distorted in time

And in wrinkled brown brain cells.

His prostate cancer grows

With his rigid rules still unlost even

As his memory shrinks.

How can woman seek union with a god

Made in the image of a male?

Mother Superior: Sister Barbie,

I concede your feelings

But emotion spun and woven is cut with the shears of dogma

I concede Father Percival’s horrid breath and condescending tone

But cloistered we keep out distractions

To crochet a perfect union with our living God

Empty out the container, my child, and God will fill it up

With perfect order.

Sister Barbie: Mother Superior,

Wrong could our assumptions be?

Leave a patch of broken soil

Unsown in our precise and cloistered garden

Strange grasses

Wild mallows, knapweed, thorns and clinging seeds appear

Male seed distorting

This perfect garden groomed so by our virginal hands

Then consider God’s mittens of mulberry leaves

Where the plant randomed of our creator puts forth leaves in three different shapes on one tree.

Only a female force could nurture such perfect inconsistency.


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