Wild

                     they ate the Sabbath grain.

The women came,
one with her jar of nard.

In the leaves they breathe
of Galilee and Jerusalem
in tongues of flame
secretly

seeing though unseen
and knowing though unknown
of all things made and then unmade

like garments worn though never felt
next to the skin,
they travel time eternally.

Mother, daughter, sister, wife
scantly named

Maryam.

Star bright

Photo by Marie-Lan Nguyen

 

 

How are you fallen from Heaven
brighter than the other stars?

A doll, an idol, made of alabaster,
hollowed eyes filled with lazuli

walking on the land among aeroliths,
the moon’s horns in your hair

into the purpling evening you descend
to light the mansion of love.