by Eva Alter
Prescience is a sarcophagus.
Assembled fruit: steadfast blessing
of the bow. As for me,
unsteady water trades
its beast, allures a haven of ships
goaded by bountiful fields. Morning,
a wolf plunders the cave—
Let me go; prayer follows
to anoint its pledge. Gracious sunships
depart against destitute preserves:
Enough! Do not delay
your march to Sheol. Go
divine a spoken survival; rest,
carry your jaw to its coffin-cure.
Hurry, the cattle rise.
The best livestock is yours.
Shepherds surrender the
sun to speak their seayears—
Sojourn to mossland and sleep;
Barrens whistle, you are near.
To all the Earth I disappear—
****
Sea-oath is out now from Hesse Press.