Wednesday, June 26, 2013

they will be unable to

in the beginning god
came to you those hours you in threshold stood
in the frame-- snowy
right knuckled, ciggy-
out door, you turned back, kept
with softlight over your shoulder
the memory would be
wholly warm if you could just
your arm

god came then
those threshold hours / months/    years
in the kitchen
or wherever you talked to the frigidaire/ who was god it was kind
of an accident/ it was before you knew you'd have the power
to exonerate them all/   not the sky eyes above the sheets but
the others all the others
who come after, who came before and washed
you through with voices, eyes,
leafs and numbers:
8s, 11s on plates you count them
you ask them     stop breathing
in my ear, please leave my shoulders be

the Voice-Washers will thencome,
to wash, wash, away numbers

you will ask/  are they washing away god?