The Right View

And if I would have portrayed for you
this soft bluish light
the tremulous reflection of the poplar in the water
when a convoy of ducks is crossing the pond
and beyond the circular shore line
the bushes and the bay and the green mountain
melting into the cloud-sky in the rain –

wouldn't you search my eyes       with a prying searchlight
shoot a duck or two      down between the lines
and pray for the monster   to emerge from the sea
and gape open upon your flesh      a sky-high mouth
to redeem you
   from this divine dullness?

But there's no need. Here,     I'm sketching it for you –
the cross and the nails   the convulsions     the pain
wave after wave   in his butterfly's wings –
your glowing faces the landscape
and finally          his wonderful cry
the pleasure-strike hitting      into your flesh   
the quivering thrill –

Just one more minute. Patience.       I'm almost     
finished.