I. The Sanctuary
Limestone dust and water mixed with eggs, wax
vinegar, honey and almond gum in the half-moon
apse. Stones form and spin: a deer, a peacock, ox
lion, sheep and a winged man. A woman holds a key.
Under the wheel window at rest and rotating
fingers touched your lips in awe. Within the ring
ruby and sapphire churn in a pool of squares, triangles
and stars. At the sanctuary of San Remo you looked up
merging with marble in the portico staring at a pair
of bell towers and a glass circle bounded by stucco.
You remain a statue.
II. This Town
I try to live in the town left behind.
A fish tank bubbles, faucets trickle and gutters bend.
An ambulance sings with the dishwasher as rain
shoots sideways. Here the bricks vibrate
where my Sicilian father snapped pizzelles
like stars and lingered over tomatoes.
Burlap arms wrapped his rosebushes. In an arc
they grow. Clouds blush encircling organs rimmed by jade.
Corollas loosen as they age.
III. Inside Stonehenge
By your gravestone, my tongue dissolves into jelly.
Behind a row of teeth, my voice cannot escape
from the monoliths enclosing the alter.
Inside Stonehenge's hoops I reel as heels
strike hospital linoleum. Metal hits a keyhole.
Fluorescent glare melts into bars cast magnified
onto walls that smudge into the Formica ceiling
which hangs ever more heavy and low over
the changeable bed. I could let illness snatch me
give in to the skyward tow of the moment.
I have traveled too far to die within the stones.
IV. The Sky Dome
Look up in wonder as the moon unfolds
Arms draw the string of a bow tight.
Great Bear froze with Little Bear and Plow.
Icecaps glow beside an empty chair.
Gods tossed you into heaven. In the meteor rain
Andromeda swallows you into the galaxy.
The eyeballs track lines of secret geometry.
Pupils shrink to pinpoints in the centers.
From the mandala, energy illuminates the zodiac
and lights the dome. The rosette turns
as you remain still at the core.
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