Remove the moth,
take the candle light out
of its eyes.
Push the bat
to steal, to confirm its role in the
film. Break the barriers of the sea,
the Atlantic, let it
froth like it demands that
Atlantis rise
from its humble domain.
Feed the desert with sun. Let the
wanderers migrating towards
serfdom remember the brutal love
of home. Sweeten the deal,
god, sweeten
the deal. Let the roofs hold their own
against the cruel whistle of
the harmattan. Let them survive the
flood. Let my lover say, this
world is only close with
you because
your love feels like it will take
me through. Come through o lord, come
through. Feed us the fattening seed, the
sinew of thirst. Bless, god
of unnamed things, the
archipelago of peace,
let each person hungering for
beauty find it in the rancour of
each day. This is a
prayer of grief, a voice
without throat,
a paragraph shorter than the
meaning of language, a
word, i mean,
something outside me and you. Listen
to me, this earth fumbles towards
a stop. I want to be with
you when the rotation
collapses on itself
and before we become dust.
