Poetry by Isabella Mori
Heavenly Blue
A haibun
Drunk and woozy, she weaves through yet another church. She’s seen too many paintings, touched too many sculptures of martyrs with arrows in their hearts, stumbled across too many confessors with their hands up the altar boys’ vestments. waft of myrrh a human form draws their coat closer She looks up. Shouldn’t have done that; the world immediately begins to turn, first slow, then fast and faster. She barely manages to sink onto a pew. The wood is warm and worn. She drops unto her knees, supported by the red-cushioned tuffet. Her head falls onto a hymn book. “praise my soul the king of heaven” the wine bottle breaks Too many martyrs. Too many hands up the altar boys’ vestments. Too many hymns sung with bile in the heart. She lifts her head again, tilts it to the ceiling. It swims before her but slowly comes into focus. Her eyes are magnetized by a cupola of the most heavenly azure. Did the painter have to sell their soul to the devil to create such heart-piercing beauty? the bluest eyes floating into god’s arms
Isabella Mori lives on the unceded, traditional and ancestral lands of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh people aka Vancouver, Canada. They are the author of three books of and about poetry, including Not So Pretty Haiku. They also write fiction and nonfiction and are the founder of Muriel’s Journey Poetry Prize, which celebrates loud, socially engaged poetry. Publications have been in places such as Cutting Letters Anthology, Presence, Kingfisher, Signs Of Life and The Group Of Seven Reimagined. Isabella recently won second prize in poetry and 3rd prize in nonfiction at the Write On Contest at at RCLAS contest. In 2021, Isabella was a writer-in-residence at the Historic Joy Kogawa House. They look back on a 30+ year career in social services. A book about mental health and addiction is forthcoming in 2025.