Ghost Under the Eaves Options

[Kay]

She makes love to me everyday.
We become a cross. Other times, a roasting spit.
When she slips inside, I am a pink melon,
asking for a kiss to bruise the gods.

My belly feels light. I remember being eleven,
and kneeling at the feet of Our Lady of Guadalupe--
praying for breasts, for the map of a man.

Then, I found her:
soft around the mouth;
she leaves a flutter in my ribs,
a ghost under the eaves.

[Terocon101]

Hi Kay,

Pleased to meet you. Thanks for sharing this intriguing poem. It is a very mysterious piece, open to different interpretations (religious/sexual/muse/social) and I enjoyed all of what I could find.

I had to Google 'Our Lady of Guadalupe',(not a strong point of mine) what a history I came across(wikipedia). Possibly adds even more layers to this piece.

Asides all of that, it reads as beautifully as a poem.

I wonder if you could explain the 'roasting spit' to me, it cant be what I'm thinking(martyrs and sex?)

.