I give a convincing sermon. I say The body
is a coat. It is a very dark and heavy coat
but worthless. Mother Mary nods from the pews.
If I give Mary all my atoms she will plant them
in a garden where ripened women relinquish
their bones to make room for littler women.
It is dangerous to grow accustomed to a garden.
Just when the flowers soften you, they disappear.
Then you are a weepy fern among skyscrapers.
I don't want my soul exposed like that.
Neither can you make a garden stay. Don't even try.
Every plot becomes a dark city over time.
I have collected many dark ideas over time.
I have so many ideas they are a second coat.
I thought that there were two
The good voice
And my voice
I thought the good voice was buried
And I would have to go
Under my voice
Which is glittery and cold
To get there
Then I heard them
A drumbeat and hawks
Many wild voices
Do you hear it?
I hear it now
Taking me up