ROSE OF FRANCE IN THE CCU | Joyce Schmid

Yesterday, the surgeons sawed your ribs apart 
and stopped your heart.  Your life 
is still deciding—leave or stay?
A stoic man, you groan. 
You motion me to read to you—
Mont St. Michel and Chartres—

and we’re in a dark cathedral 
with a moon-sized window—
bright kaleidoscope of gems—
just vinegar and piss and metal oxides 
transubstantiated into purity and blood— 
the Mother and her Baby, 
ringed by angels, prophets, doves, and kings.
The Mother frowns. The Baby’s face is bleak. 
They know that even God must suffer,
those who love Him feeling every nail,
no prophets, kings, or angels there to ease Him
as the hammers pound. 

What is that sound? 
A rush of light?
The swish of wings? 

Joyce Schmid is a writer whose work has appeared New Ohio Review Online, Connecticut River Review, Critica, Bridport Prize anthology 2025, and The Hudson Review. Schmid has published two poetry chapbooks Superbloom and Natural Science. A grandmother and psychotherapist, Schmid lives with her husband of over half a century in Palo Alto, California.

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