Hands of God Fashioned of clouds Have finger tips that balance the almond white moon. The pale sky is a flower White tipped and pink tipped with dawn. White hands of God gather the blossoms with fingers that hold me, Cloud fingers like milk in the azure night, Weaving strong chords. DESTINY I am lost in the vast cave of night. No sound but the far-off tinkle of stars, And the cry of a bird Muffled in shadows. The light flows in remotely Through the hollow moon, Dim strange brilliance From waters beyond the sky. Groping, I listen to the harsh tinkle of the far-off stars, Feel the clammy shadows about my shoulders. THE RED CROSS HECTIC I Ruby winged pains flash through me, Jewel winged agonies: They vanish, Carrying me with them Without my knowing it. II Pain sends out long tentacles And sucks. When I have given up struggling He takes me into his arms. ISOLATION WARD We are the separate centers of consciousness Of all the universes. We vibrate statically on a trillion golden wires. Our trillion golden fingers twine in the weltering darkness, And grasp tremblingly, Aware in agony Of the things we can never know. THE RED CROSS Antiseptic smells that corrode the nostrils Crumble me, Eat me deep; And my garments disintegrate: First my nightgown, Leaving my naked arms and legs disjointed, Sprawled about the bed in postures meaningless to the point of obscenity. My breasts shrivel, The nipples drawn like withered plums To the eyes of the bright young nurse. I am nothing but a dull eye myself, An eye out of a socket, Bursting, Contorted with hideous wisdom. Eye to eye We fight in the death throes, Myself and the young nurse. Her firm, crisp aproned bosom Leans toward the bed, As she smooths the rumpled pillow back With long cool fingers. HOSPITAL NIGHT I am Will-o'-the-Wisp. I float in a little pool of delirium, Phosphorescent velvet. My fire is like a breath That blows my illness in circles, Widening it so far That I cannot see the edge. It is one with the night sky. My fire has blown this vastness, But I strain and flicker trying to escape from it. I want to exist without the darkness That makes my breath so bright. I want the morning to thin my light. DOMESTIC CANTICLE SPRING SONG Sap crashes suddenly through dead roots: Sap that bites, Harsh, Impatient, Bitter as gold. My God, my sisters, how dark, how silent, how heavy is earth! Shoulders strain against this eternity, Against the trickling loam. Earth dropped on the heart like a nerveless hand: On the red mouth Earth coils, Heavy as a serpent. Light has come back to the darkness, To the shadow, To the coolness of blackened leaves. HOME AGAIN