From “The Voice of Sheila Chandra”

Carried cacophony world wheel
Into the human one small voice
Box pool swum midnight we went
Into the sea expecting our prayers
Might carry themselves across
The silver-slammed surface would
Be answered or do they answer
Pale cut of prayers do not answer
Like back into the dark water what
Are those stripes of light across 
The room a shape that evaporates
Upon waking what language cannot
Hold onto what you cannot
Hold onto