ISSUE 3 · FALL 2009
MARY MARIE DIXON
An angel’s teeth marks
the peel of a granny smith,
the precise blush, her incisors so white
on the crisp of green. Meditating the gospels,
she lamented the fig tree’s unfruitfulness as tart
juice dribbled her chin; she ground the white meat.
In the mold of her teeth on the apple: <> a worm.
Tree-bound angels peruse scripture from fresh saints
who spring new-blown from the ruach. Saints under
trees whisper secrets known to prophets and drinkers
of the vine. On the apple, every one of them traces
the angel’s mouth, but none notice <> the worm.
Wind-born saints dream of trees with red fruit
and wonder at the ever greenness of the
in the absence
of red, and think
on the fig’s unfruitfulness.
Cursing, for faithlessness, the burdened tree,
in spite of the abundance of apples, still and all,
they neglect to curse
Mary Marie Dixon is a graduate of the University of Notre Dame, a visual artist whose work has been exhibited in galleries and shows, and a poet who has published creative works in periodicals and a collection of poetry, Eucharist, Enter the Sacred Way, Franciscan University Press, 2008. Her focus on women’s spirituality and the mystics combined with the Great Plains and the spiritual power of nature makes for an eclectic mix.