God is not light upon light, no more
than goat is need upon need although there, where it grazes, it is
sun upon coat within which ticks and stray-blown feed
burrow into the pocked skin of such foul scent
covering the underflesh heart that could
eat this farmer’s grain or the barren mountain’s bark
high in the solitude of sheer animal
peace laid over sheer animal terror.
We ask the animal afflicted by its time,
its impoverished American meadow
that drove it to find birch from which to strip its easy feed
to abide with us. It does not need us.
We think it needs us.
We must forgive God God’s story.