The Idol
She stands in the sunlight before the glittering idol
And she is more shining and golden than the statue
As it blushes.
She passes by the pulpit and when she does
The monks and the ministers all bow lowly and turn toward her
As they pray.
She looks up at the curtain spread wide before the altar,
Her scent more subtle than the incense and the candles
Yet more penetrating.
The curtain pulls back, revealing God, who,
Being struck blind upon setting eyes on her, diminishes to dust
And abandons me.
So Small
The raindrops are so small
but sinister
as they communicate all night
with the ghosts in my dreams.
The birds outside the bedroom are so small –
nestlings, really –
but they wake me up
crying out for mother.
Your love is so small.
Smaller than my faith,
bigger than your tiny fidelity.
Still, it weighs a ton, your love,
as it lies on top of me,
where I am lying, feather light.
Lighter than your love
that is so heavy, smothering:
so very small.
Swish of the tail
Sometimes I take a walk
and I see a turtle or a squirrel
or a snake or a deer
and our eyes lock a moment –
we see each other,
just a quick glimpse,
without much understanding,
reacting with our fight or flight responses
and then the turtle hides its head,
the squirrel jumps the tree,
the snake recedes into the grass,
the deer bounds away.
Is that not like you and me,
separated by miles or morals,
confusion or solid ice?
How we avert our eyes when confronted:
showing our lover, our friend,
our neighbor, our opponent
nothing but a surprised glance,
a flicking turn of the body;
a vanishing swish of the tail.
Flight of the dragonfly 