Friday, May 30, 2008


for M.H.

You will not remember the dream
which you derived from, found

your appetite to that fruit,
where your tooth was confined---

ache-relic of the turn
from blindness to blindness.

You were my voice then,
a surrogate idol moored by my hand

to this world, no longer
nourished by God's light

with our threshold of pain
even the needle's eye bears.