Stravinsky in the Shower
after The Rite of Spring
I lather my hair
as an old woman
prophesies
upon the equinox
of spring.
Hot water
pours over me,
while young
women dance.
Soap foam
rinses from
my beard
and body
down the shower
drain.
Rival tribes divide
and proceed.
I turn off the water,
grab a towel.
An elder kisses
the earth.
Pagans dance
as I dry myself.
The sacrifice begins.
My clothes
are on the bed.
Mystery unfolds
in games and circles.
I dress as a dancer
is chosen
and glorified,
entrusted to elders,
dances to death
before I can
put on my shoes.
About the Author: Jonathan K. Rice edited Iodine Poetry Journal for seventeen years. He is the author of two full-length poetry collections, Killing Time (2015), Ukulele and Other Poems (2006) and a chapbook, Shooting Pool with a Cellist (2003), all published by Main Street Rag Publishing. He is also a visual artist. His poetry and art have appeared in numerous publications, including Cold Mountain Review, Comstock Review, Diaphanous, Empty Mirror, Gargoyle, Inflectionist Review, Levure Litteraire, The Main Street Rag, Wild Goose Poetry Review and the anthologies, Hand in Hand: Poets Respond to Race and The Southern Poetry Anthology VII: North Carolina.
More by Jonathan K. Rice
As It Ought To Be 