ritual
keija kaarina parssinen
A mineral comfort amidst
cold marble and glass.
Women have done this before.
Look upon my cracked brass
mirror-face; hear the xylophone
of mother's million bangles:
deep gong of thin gold
against thick;
the singing
of engraved palm fronds
rubbed to gleaming.
Memory's gift, her face.
My fingers do ancient things.
Trace ochre lines, caress
me a face; dip into crushed talc
paint high arches-brows
a Hellenic statement inscribed on
columns of bone. Lips, red
as the blood of a dead Caesar.
I see Hatshepsut in a glass dress,
lending Artemis her leaden powder
just before she puts on her false beard.
Yes:
This is something women have done before.
about the author
Keija Kaarina Parssinen lives and works in Brooklyn, where she writes from the comfort of her bed and frequently finds herself visited by memories of her childhood in Saudi Arabia and her adolescence in Austin, Texas. Her poetry can be seen in the June issue of Monday Night literary journal, and has previously appeared in Princeton University's Nassau Weekly and Waterways magazine. She greatly enjoys the community of writers she has found through the Sackett Street Writers Workshop in Carroll Gardens. She is currently at work on a novel.
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