Poem by Constance Merritt

Alleluia!                                                           


Alleluia! Christ is Risen! 
The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Lovely Maria, garlanded with lilies, prances. 
Prayers for peace rise on the wings of origami doves.                                 
     Alleluia!

My old Kentucky home where the people are gay but cannot marry.
Beloved, with what hands, what tools shall I build this house? 
     Alleluia!

Daffodils and purple hyacinths herald the spring. 
As the earth warms, earth worms breathe new life into dead clay. 
     Alleluia!

Derby hats and fascinators festoon Bardstown Road.
For months in the litter box squirty poop. Now formed turds.
     Alleluia!    

Love is a wildflower that reseeds itself for years.
Late; someone is calling you away from work to bed.
     Alleluia!

The wind’s eyes open wide drinking in rivers of light.
Ravenous and utterly helpless, spring chicks survive.
     Alleluia!


My people cut the grass; yours mow the lawn. The grass grows.
Nothing is worth your love except that which breaks your heart.
     Alleluia!

Now, imaginary gardens spill into the world.
Within each narrow bed sweet romances bloom; bear fruit.
     Alleluia!

Weeks barrel headlong, but each day’s a lazy river.
Once, we doubted if cold would ever warm; now we laugh.
     Alleluia!

Let the rivers clap their hands, the hills ring out with joy.
A conflagration of flowers lights the tinder heart.
     Alleluia!

At bedtime my love reads me a sonnet freshly penned.
Poetry rests in ceaseless restlessness and longing.
     Alleluia!

For the generosity and sweetness of apples;
The merciful river of sleep eroding day’s slate.
     Alleluia!

A feast of sweetness: strawberries, blackberries, secrets.
Rain dissolves the sticky heat; we sleep in cool night air.
     Alleluia!

This morning the whole world blazes but is not consumed.
Two homebodies dive into this day of two parties.
     Alleluia!

Lawnmowers compete with bullfrogs for croaking prowess.
Plants overbrim the gardener’s mind; green cascades.
     Alleluia!

Supper: minestrone, cornbread, blackberry cobbler.
While impatience is infinite, waiting is finite.
     Alleluia!

Today we bury our hopes in a red begonia.
Fixing the dead AC consists of flipping a switch.
     Alleluia!

Floors swept, bathrooms cleaned, larder stocked; hours left to wait.
Even pleasures interrupt the sweetness of these days.
     Alleluia!

How completely we are wedded to our numbered days!
     Alleluia!

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Constance Merritt was born in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, and educated at the Arkansas School for the Blind in Little Rock. She is the author of four collections of poems, most recently Blind Girl Grunt: The Selected Blues Lyrics and other Poems (Headmistress Press, 2017). Merritt earned her MSSW from the University of Louisville. She lives and works in Louisville, KY with her wife, Maria Accardi.

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