From the Beginning

I am the glove you lost and remember.

I was like a child shining within a scream.

We began with you on your knees wishing to surrender.

The gods surrender walking down from the mountains.

Above their heads their arms hold candles, guns, skulls,

birds in pierced cans, owls, pyramidal symbols, and

gathered fire.

Hearing her talk memory develops the tone of prayer.

Her intention was that of prayer: the dead awake.

How strangely hurt are the dead. Their hands in pockets.

Their hands move to us in the dark like stars at times

of great darkness. And near to the end they move like

trees,

for the spirit comes down to us reaching in to the earth.

Iam among those only with you from the beginning.