A face in a Sedan, a billboard’s eye, The voice of a wrong number, a quick smile Snatched into hindsight from a passer-by And skin reflected in a kitchen tile Imply Her for a wink of time and pass Out of that field a thousand questions thresh. A monk saw shards of heaven in stained glass And Isis made love from a god’s ripped flesh. Now on some girl who was last night’s best beast I grope in clement light but grasp at Her While mourning shakes a rattle in the east And time prepares me, like a prisoner. Song of the crowd, of winter rose and sun, I will retain you from all unison.