What do violets do, chrysanthemum &
roses when you’re gone, dreaming long
light shadows on the grass, the dog star
high & lonely?
I found love from the prison of my days
her cold arms. We Catholics have Aquinas,
are rational. The protestant founders
on empirical grounds. The eyes close,
whiteness holds the dark & when I’m broken,
fill me with breath & hold me to your suffering.