Because to God must be given
the things that belong to God,
and to the world must be given
the things that belong to the world,
I kiss you with both lips, upper and lower.
Because the world keeps beginning
and ending the same way,
with the slaughter of the innocent,
with the massacre of the blameless,
and there’s not a thing anyone can do.
The tall curtains billow
with presences coming and going, impossible
to confirm.
Whispered voices congregate at noon.
Is there any word from the Lord?
Is there any word from the dead?
Is there any word from the dying?
Is there any word from the living?
The curtains rise and fall like wings.
Is the room about to lift off the earth?
Noon is crowded with voices.
Is there any word from the Lord?
You were born speaking the language of the dying:
I want. I need. Not enough.