it seems we’ve been

memorializing the dead for months

transcending the world of blood

like birds above the sea

some ascended in the illness of age

some in the pagan flames

of grief and treachery

and we spoke softly

weeping

our palms held flat

predicting nothing

presenting nothing

holding the vanity of our existence

like candles waiting to be lit

at the banquet feast

it seems we’ve been

crossing the river for years

like flung stones skipping

believing in stopping

just above the surface

shadows forever below

topsides forever dry

forgetting the far bank

(that beckons like doves returning with branches)

mere stones gleaming like diamonds

our eyes turned inward

our thoughts

fortresses

it seems we’ve been saying

these things since the beginning

like statues on Pacific islands

like Indus valley ruins

like snakes winding on garden trees

“Erect for yourself monuments,

for there is nobility in darkness!”

and so we cover ourselves in silk

fearing love is an enemy

singing songs to the walls

of Jericho

(April 1999)