Hand reaching down into my body.
Five disjointed fingers of a river pressing into the Gulf at the delta.
The hand that prepares the offering points to pine trees
where blue jays mock what I am saying.
Inside me a tower collapses. Inside me a city falls captive.
You know better than I do where we are going.
The one who knows the country gives directions
to him who asks the way.
I am lifting my face like a moon to your face like the sun.
I am letting my hand of darkness float out to your hands of light
like a child, like a fool
like a river pressing into the Gulf at the delta.