Light riding, westward

UMBRIAN BEAM

On the shortest day, in these northern parts

the river is quiet, the sky

is gray.  A heaving sigh

of flesh, my body is... (the old poet’s

confession).  Too heavy for

this rusted lattice, locked

in Mississippi ice (rock-

frigid rictus).  JB – metaphor

for Job, mayhap.  Job, an icon

of hectored humanity –

who in latter day will see

my Redeemer stand before me, on

the earth.  Sparse light, thin

calumet of raven-smoke...

parting curtains with a stroke

of ink, an Ariadne-thread (woolen

quipu).  The trumpet plays tattoo

above furled Flemish loess

in Queequeg runes (remorse);

lambfields of returning, clumps of yew

veiling a furtive limestone chapel.

Under an alcove of

blu oltramar, Piero’s dove

rays Mary’s robe into mandorla

made with fingertips – Umbrian beam

piercing raven-umber

(barely).  & though they slumber

now, soon shall they wake... in Jerusalem.

12.21.15