flames orange their eyes
the
life
inside
their
worn faces
one, cooking slim fish,
manages a silenced name—
God
he says
with frightened pleasure
God
and again
God
like so, like that
while waters came—
the current
language of water
there
at
their boats
moored
to
the trees
by
the banks of Yaroslavl
God
with
winds letting loose
against
evening
pushing
a slow mist upon everything—
God he continues
God
until they stand,
they all sing
barely
seen
unsecreting
the
new sound of their bodies.
Therése Halscheid teaches creative writing at Atlantic Cape Community
College in New Jersey. Her poetry collection is titled Powertalk.
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