To the bed,
Blue shrine:
You come
Bereft, a perfect
Prayer,
Sacred shadow:
In the holy dark
Breath, the shuddered
Shutter
Of the heart’s
Husk, let us suffer
Like autumn, singed
Salt,
Someone taken
In a glass room
Shines—you: with open eyes
Hard—you: flower-shaped
Seraphim—you: whirlwind
Of leaf-lifted
Light:
Naked
A cappella
In the Republic
Of Pantomime—
You climb
Though the steep olive groves,
A woman
Balancing buckets of well-water—
ISSUE: Summer 2006