Spring 2013 • Vol. XXXV No. 2 Poetry |

Calling All Gods

Because I stand with my great unknowing yap and pray for speech. Because I would open my body like a rasping bellows and have you fill it. I do not know your name. That's the zigzag lightning I know. And that's the stout oak taken down by wind. But what else am I to call you when you take me up in your embrace. You've always touched me with a stranger's hand. What is language outside the body but dry echo, the reflected want. I stood on the embankment where the midges fussed about the water. The black wings took them. The dark celebration overtook its congeries. No other voices but the frogs. No other sermon but the swallow's call. Why did you not enter me there with all the others. Oh, didn't you just. Oh, didn't you give and thrust. But spoke no word. No one man can be all things. That's why we need the river's indecisive swell. I, of course. I wait for you, the evening. Abandoned boathouse hallelujah. I have come to speech. I have turned to kiss your face. I fi

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