like a lost Osiris

photo by Aaron Siskind (Cuzco)

On the coldest night in a generation
on a bridge in Minneapolis
one delicate snowflake melts
into her crevices of Inca stone.

Berryman, like a lost Osiris
wavers on the railing...
& maidens will be wailing
in Ramah, because she is

no more.  A forgotten Muse
of Memory – figure
of a little almond tree –
stays hidden (somewhere in D.C.).

I gather the limbs of Osiris
whispers Isis (under
her obelisk of wonder
blundering toward Sirius).

She remains behind her veil
out there in West Branch,
like a soft eyelash
encircling the ark of Israel –

like the cow-eyed prow of Argo
or sea-tossed glance
of Magdalen-experience;
the wavy lips of the vessel flow

into a primavera Ocean State...
your dream-song Jonah
breathing – hallelujah! –
from polar ice to coracle checkmate.


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