The Cheese and the Worms
(Thoughts on
The Cheese and the Worms, The Cosmos of a
Sixteenth-Century Miller, by Carlo Ginzburg)
The cheese rots and the
worms emerge.
Turning into angels,
saints and savior,
they rise with shimmering
halos
through flickering
rainbows
past the winking disco
mirror-ball of reason
to the painted ceiling.
The judge, blinded by
certainty,
raises a trembling finger
and Menocchio prays for a
windless day.
We expect the
Inquisition,
and hide the children of
our minds
deep in the hive
where we cap off their
cells and hope they will
grow in silence until they
are strong enough
to escape on their own.
But when the storms of
passion,
rip open our hiding
places,
they fly out unguarded
and bare themselves
to the harsh, penetrating
eye of our fears,
and once beyond the pyre
they are free at last.
Note: One who is to be burned at the stake prays for a windless day so they will suffocate before the flames reach them.
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