Twenty-one Understudies for the Word Mercy

Twenty-one Understudies for the Word Mercy

Tray full of morning light — with coffee;
Wild spirals of cliff swallows and six-winged angels;
Collie so happy your home she levitates with her tail;
Flames of deadfall bonfires forming massive flowers;
Churched-up villagers advancing with torches — talked down by a twelve-year-old;
Exiled Queen finding her true calling in carpentry;
Preacher speaking on the uselessness of exacting doctrines;
Wind-up Victrola and a Ma Rainey record washing up on some uncharted island;
Watermelon daiquiri and mandolin music coming through palm trees;
Silvery traces of waltzes left over from last night’s moon dance;
Story of Mary Oliver at a gala with a wounded pigeon in her pocket;
The cut on your arm that left a star;
One whole day, free of pain;
Search plane spotting your child in a clearing just before nightfall;
Flashlight wolf-faces and laughter descending from the attic;
Warm glistening feel of complete darkness;
Hammock and the drowsy hum of your fridge in the height of summer;
Endless prairie road — yellow-glow filling-station sign rising in a moonless horizon;
Midnight swim — your bioluminescent body;
The billion echoes of afterlife in a smile;
A series of likenesses vanishing into bloom; a blessing,
Like the low holy whistle of a slow coming train.