Overheard,
late, this morning: Don’t blame
me, if I am everything your heart
has led to.
Hazel trees;
ghost moths in the hazel branches.
Why not stay?
It’s a dream I’ve had
twice now: God is real, as
the difference between
having squandered faith and having lost it
is real. He’s straightforward:
when he says Look at me when I’m speaking,
it means he’s speaking.
He’s not unreasonable:
because I’ve asked, he shows me his mercy—
a complicated arrangement
of holes and
hooks, buckles. What else did you think
mercy looked like,
he says, and demonstrating, he straps it on, then takes it off.
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