In Illo Tempore
The big missal splayed
and dangled silky ribbons
of emerald and purple and watery white.
Intransitively we would assist,
confess, receive. The verbs
assumed us. We adored.
And we lifted our eyes to the nouns.
Altar stone was dawn and monstrance noon,
the word rubric itself a bloodshot sunset.
Now I live by a famous strand
where seabirds cry in the small hours
like incredible souls
and even the range wall of the promenade
that I press down on for conviction
hardly tempts me to credit it.
From Station Island