Hole in the Heart, by William Kemmett, 2001

Cold Light

The tide is in
and the gulls are blown
to the size of plump
angels into the waste
of autumn.

The veins of the hand
I write with could be
the ancient roads of
DaVinci as seen from space.

Rivers branch
into blood: a map
to hold the mountains.

The afternoon moon
is the wafer print
of a baby’s thumb lifted
by the sky.

Lord it is time
for me to pray. A lampfish
deep under the sea turns
in his cold light, and fastens
himself to a stone.

—(Hole in the Heart, William Kemmett. Igneus Press (2001))