Manifest

- after "The Boat 2," Odilon Redon


Rope in the sign of the number 
       3, I do not kneel before you.
With my arms I'll try to keep 
       the chalky tent of heaven 
from falling in upon itself. I'll
       make sure there is no crossbar 
from which you could dangle, skin 
       shed of a dark lover spurned 
by a woman whose eye was fixed 
       on the gleaming fruit, the taste
of all she could know. Naturally 
       she wanted it more than you. 
And the hull of this boat is cathedral 
       or cave or my own womb; and I 
the shape crouched in a sea of heaving
       waters felted with salt, presiding
again at my birth. So many more things
       to name like children: new stars,
overlooked islands, small tender bodies 
       encased in nacreous film; bronzed
beasts sitting in their own cultivated
       gardens. When they say the universe 
is divine: it means look in all directions 
       and feel the arrival of the vertiginous
future. Everything with its own distinct
       outline, each stillness its own delirium.