One day you may be asked, “How
was it that God brought forth
out of nothing?” Then, “Is
there no difference between them—
nothing, and being?” Outside
a strange slow snow, and a big
black bird hunched
over something in the road. The sky
will be a pale
reflection of itself,
like a woman making dreamy circles
at the center of a dish with a cloth.
Love. Hunger. Other alchemies.
You may be asked, “What
are my eyes made of? Can
Santa’s reindeer be burned by fire? In
heaven, does Jesus eat?”
In the oven, something breathing. Rising. Melting.
shape and sweetening
in the heat. Now
you can see that the bird in the street
is wrestling something bloody
out of a carcass, trying
to expose its heart. You
put the dish down beside the cloth, and say,
“Darling, I don’t know.”
Copyright © 2004 Laura Kasischke
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.