The Architecture of Place

 

 

by Josie Schoel

 

 

 

 

 

 

I. 

 

The veils on the Polish women are now hinting at

virginity, now hinting at the inevitability of the

nasty thought.  It is predictable, as nature has shown

us, this duality.  The throttle of the Bible man next to

you on the subway, the shaking of the baby. 

 

May you veil this loneliness with thought.

Disgrace is what the human desires, disguise, what

the human needs.  May you veil this thought with

language, this language with costume. 

 

I think I know now what is meant when they speak for the

Living rather than the dead and from there know what finally

holds the austere in place.  The veils are dripping. 

Dripping, the veils are dripping.  And the fog

Lays soft in the trees.

 

 

II. 

 

I think I know now what she means when she speaks, when she

speaks in tongues for the living rather than the dead. 

The street outside my window is a river a deluge.

 

In this city, this dark city.  The potential for myth is unparalleled and

If one is not careful, and some are not careful at all, immateriality.  A

Strange haphazard shapelessness.

 

May you veil this thought with loneliness

May you veil with loneliness costume.

May you veil this costume with language.  

 

 

 

 

 

copyright © 2008 Josie Schoel

 

Josie Schoel is a Brooklyn-based poet whose poems have appeared in a number of journals and magazines.  She is a 2003 recipient of an American Academy of Poets award.  Originally from Gloucester, MA, she holds a BA in Literature from Bard College.  She is a literary agent at the Frances Goldin Literary Agency.