A few years ago, I had the opportunity to share a meal with Oliver at my house. He was teaching a summer writing workshop at the university, and a friend asked if I would entertain him for the evening. I was thrilled to eat lasagna with him and talk about kids and books and poetry.
I can honestly say that Oliver de la Paz is a true gentleman.
With the death of Robin Williams today, I need a poem that lifts my spirits, makes me happy.
Saint Marty is looking for a little grace.
The Fourth Madonna
by: Oliver de la Paz
She's a statuette the size of a child's thumb. The boy thinks she speaks to him. Fidelito hides her from the television's aquarium light, fearing that she may drown the way Domingo sinks below the surface of the cathode.
She appears in the bathroom on top of the toilet's water tank to prove that she's holy, unafraid.
She has been washed in Fidelito's pant-pocket four times. A miracle that her paint has not chipped.
She has appeared in wars with other statuettes her same size. The green army men freeze, toppling over when they see her.
At night she swings from a string hung from the ceiling of the boy's room, circling with the propeller blade of the ceiling fan. She blesses the room with her blue arcs.
A really great poet |
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