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A prayer for an old cinema
the breathing of cows at pasture
to live in the spine of a cat
let reels descend colorless into deep milk
if the grass can turn a murderer inside out
if honey can become the wound

steeples underground, bells deep in the earth
forgetfulness of the bomb
forgetfulness of the umbilical
the life that falls down in front of a film
drive-in cathedrals where
the scented subway aches
to become human, in its machinery
the eyes of cows are not eating your being
you can watch their watching
it has no knives, hands call to flanks
blood layered on blood has flown its energies earthward
no homes coagulating in deep space
a prayer that makes no appeal

lapping against stone shutters
a camera's eye that scars bark
while the core stands in the sap
of a thousand sealed passages
mute to its glory, rainforest projector
newborn touches living dinosaur fur
the dark oil of old movies.

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