THE RIBALD NUN

I  brought you to the cloistered life

But you made a ribald nun 

In your habit of turquoise and lapis.

Always you flaunted your worship 

Of the more ancient god --

Wearing his silks across your breast,

Telling your rosary in almond shells,

Your matins and vespers sung 

To the surge and swell of a 

Primordial river.

                                                                              In memoriam

                                                                              Macintosh 1969 - 2000

                                           Martha Mohney Schneck