Your silence is magnificent; your speech
makes the deer calve and the forest-
heart shudder, shudder, break.
The morning gets in my eyes, the bloody sun
clawing in demand my neck and chin.
Time squeezes limbs in thin hallways,
dry kitchens, cold showers, hot streets.
Your robe fills the temple
like a purple flood; your footstool,
the earth, creaks.
And so over-many the fashions
daily different, now cropped, now extended,
tighter looser thicker thinner striking nonexistent
I am sick of it all I am sick of it.
Your eye rests on the righteous
full of joy.