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Paschal

By Robert Pinsky b. 1940 Robert Pinsky

Easter was the old North

Goddess of the dawn.

She rises daily in the East

And yearly in spring for the great

Paschal candle of the sun.

Her name lingers like a spot

Of gravy in the figured vestment

Of the language of the Britains.

Her totem the randy bunny.

Our very Thursdays and Wednesdays

Are stained by syllables of thunder

And Woden's frenzy.

O my fellow-patriots loyal to this

Our modern world of high heels,

Vaccination, brain surgery—

May they pass over us, the old

Jovial raptors, Apollonian flayers,

Embodiments. Egg-hunt,

Crucifixion. Supper of encrypted

Dishes: bitter, unrisen, a platter

Compass of martyrdom,

Ground-up apples and walnuts

In sweet wine to embody mortar

Of affliction, babies for bricks.

Legible traces of the species

That devises the angel of death

Sailing over our doorpost

Smeared with sacrifice.

Source: Poetry (October 2002).

Biography

Robert Pinsky is one of America’s foremost poet-critics. Often called the last of the “civic” or public poets, Pinsky’s criticism and verse reflect his concern for a contemporary poetic diction that nonetheless speaks of a wider experience. Elected Poet Laureate of the United States in 1997, his tenure was marked by ambitious efforts to prove the power of poetry—not just as an intellectual pursuit in the ivory tower, but as a . . .

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