Feathered Chalice

By Timothy Bovee

Born 1946


If my chalice grew feathers
as I drank
wine and blood
would they tickle my nose
with a champagne caress
and prickle my throat
for a gag reflex,
then flutter and fly --
a golden chalice
passerine,
earth breaking
from Earth,
fetish freed
from its birth?

On the occasion of the Ken Shores retrospective, April 10 - July 23, 2008, at the Museum of Contemporary Craft in Portland, Oregon. The poem addresses Shores'' "Gold challis 1980d", made of ceramic, feathers, mirror and plexiglass, one of his "feather fetish" creations.

DayPoems Poem No. 2802
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/2802.html"> by Timothy Bovee</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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