what if the most sacred were, precisely, the profane

The tip of my right index 
has kissed a finger of my left hand 
and made me glance down 
[away from the screen]
to see hands almost in prayer 
perched on the edge of a laptop
as if on the back of the pew in front 
a million years ago 
watched over by sisters 
that floated to and fro 
like boats in a harbour
without knees or ankles 
like ordinary mortals.
And I smile to recall
all that innocent fervour 
and I feel my smile broaden 
to realize that what has changed 
is that now I would say 
Without god all things are possible! 
Unless, of course,  by god you mean love…
in which case that is all 
that is required 
here in this our new temple –
tabernacle – at our
our alphabetic altar
Praise be wells up
as I envision this machine 
to be our last hope 
if we are to fulfill
the prophesy 
that humanity
will eventually 
get it right.




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