As He Now Lets Fall

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               ~ Psalm 24:7 (for my son, post-top surgery)

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His opened shirt, the proud parade of skin

And the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein

His mound-less chest—he twists one button then another

For he hath founded it upon the seas

Working each small stitched lock, each pearly key

Established it upon the waters

His kingdom unveiled and he the sole ruler

Who may ascend the hill

Of castle with the drawbridge down

Who shall stand in his holy place?

The proud parade of skin, his boundless chest

He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart

All the flora in their stamen glory—a perfect fire

Shall receive the blessing

Through window, turret, banquet hall, boudoir

Lift up your heads, O ye gates

All colors square the circle, circling the square

Strong and mighty

And steady atop his throne

This is the generation

Gold in every corner, plank, every choiring facet—

Mighty in battle

Hair to shoulders, his voice yet deepens

That seek him

With nails

Seek thy face

Color of blackberries

Lift up your heads

Crushed and bled

O ye gates

His fingers skip his torso length

Who is this King of glory?

Smooth as moon, the glint of it—

This King of glory

Of desert midnight, a landscape of light, he thinks—

And be ye lift up

Of royal optics, the beauty of—

Even lift them up

Ancient spaces

Ye everlasting doors

That said his name: He—Him—His

The King of glory shall come in

A call that entered—Lord:
Glory... Long before he heard it