In the core of the city,
two onion domes resplendent,
full breasts offer up to god
sacred sips of nourishment.
From any compass gate
we find this blooming chest,
erect above the other heights,
this bosom garners full respect.
Church doors all stand open
in the onion dome city,
COVID can’t quench piety
in this place of ancient filigree.
The onion dome city is curse-free.
Burial, religiously mandatory.
The waxen bodies exhumed
since the Friedhof’s past capacity.
Cleanliness and quietness,
two teets pointed to the sky,
reminds us to appease our god,
make restitution ‘fore we die.
Candles and confessionals,
a life lived on the knees.
Bodies bulge outside the spires
the eye of god all-sees.
Above the red brick Frauenkirche,
two golden nipples perk high,
discover your immortal bearings
from the cleavage in the sky.
NaPoWriMo Day 22. Napowrimo.net is following Poets & Writers’ prompt today challenging us to write a poem that uses metonymy. We are invited to write a poem that invokes a specific object as a symbol of a particular time, era, or place.
I’ve been wanting to write a poem about Munich, where I currently live and include the iconic onion domes, which are the largest structures in the city.
Some articles that relate to burial here in Bavaria.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Leave a comment