The Z falls from doze
waking us to the forested creature inside
To the Y that got jostled out of the many
To the X that added itself to ape as a gentle joke
that went too far
To the W that made an omen out of women
To the V that in its absence gives eyes to the starving
To the U slipping from the buoys
to a boundary of boys in the sea
To the T that softened our terror to error
To the million grains of S multiplying the and
connecting everything
To the R from beret becoming
a fist of red whispering underground
To the Q that like the queen must never leave
To the P that peeled away so the pear
would not be deaf to the ground on which it fell
To the O that flies up out of the boat into the night sky
To the N forsaking violent, gentling to the smell of a violet
To the M from muse disrobing into use
To the L loosed from gold
that led us to God
To the K dropping from seek
like scales from our eyes
To the J unhooking from jiffy
and our tragic certainties
To the I loosed from aim
always flying toward some target
To the H slipping away as we go from hour to our
To the G that unglues from gloom,
a dark frame for weaving hope
To the F breaking from fever
so we can get back to ever after
To the E that falls off the ledge of quite
To the D that drains from the sink of the sky
To the C that unclasps from code and leaves us in praise
To B or not the B can’t decide so on leaving the bus
leaves it to us
Because what we have come to praise is gone
by the time we say amen
Rita Mae Reese is the author of The Book of Hulga (Wisconsin). She designs Lesbian Poet Trading Cards for Headmistress Press and codirects Arts + Literature Laboratory in Madison.
Photo by Sven Brandsma on Unsplash
