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-

holding-finger

out door, you turned back, kept

with softlight over your shoulder

the memory would be

wholly warm if you could just

forget
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?