–for Don Murdoch
This is the end of the world, slow motion, this burning,
burning till earth is parched, the cypress crisping,
cactus brown, brown grass, brown horizon.
Through the Cathedral hands of the faithful pass a candle.
Feel the pull of prayer in the hot dark.
Tell God nothing can live without water,
water, which is 70% of what you’re praying with,
rivers longing through you for more water.
That’s when it comes to you:
in prayer lies prayer’s answer. In the calling out,
the visitation. In the arrow lives the target’s eye.
So water rises from its knees, believing water
will come. When rain starts, a fat drop
joined by her sisters, the sound of dripping like
a shy nun sneezing, your heart stops with pleasure
and you pick up the cantaloupe you’ll have for dinner
to shake it. The promise inside: flesh
the color of sunset, the slosh of a whole ocean.