Ladders to God

A longing
to be enmeshed, to regress

to that primitive entanglement

with the supernatural 

that is the mark of my civilization


A prisoner of the desire

that cut and moved stones

to build ladders to God 
that stirred music

out of an absurd flutter of silk

that called down heaven

in the cutting of glass, the windows of great cathedrals 


I go back further. My thirst

is for the smoke of a burning sage branch

my skin, a child

begs for the slap of other skin

the reek of other bodies close to mine in the dark

the gutted air of an autumn solstice 
the spell of solitude

under pagan moons

before we conquered, be-flagged them


I ache to erase

that dear-bought science 

that pushed belief out to the realm of 
physics and astrophysics

down to particles and sub particles 

where my breadth of vision fails 

and wonder ceases. 


Like a plague I long to undo

all that has been done

to strip us down

to wash us clean

To see if there would still be

at long end

this thing called existence 

if we could wake for the first time again,

be new

exhale

sweat and wonder seeping through tree-arms

that expose us to all the caprices

we've cauterized


I lay in the river once

we swam up through ages together

could have been any age

I, any creature

anonymity as salvation

I lifted my legs, felt water

between thighs

mascara across my face

god knows what poison was in the river

or in me


I squeezed out from my every cell 
that ancient hunger

that breeds within 

endlessly

the river took it, understood it
and we were content together 
the river and I.