7
Stone on stone, four walls rose
And a cupola was rounded;
A low portal pierced one wall,
So you stoop to go on in. The spring,
Five outlets in a wide
Arc (cold star), whence gushes
Crys tal water still,
They housed it in a shrine, you see
Here the huge root spread:
A willow hi t by lightning, long
Before we came. Before the roof caved in,
Trees all around,
Their graves in the rock, under a green hood
They heard willow speak to water,
And housed the spring, so it could dwell
In itself, as such a place might wish to.
Yes, dwell in itself.
Yes, them, not us.
KRISTIN FOGDALL
Aristotle's
Lantern
Under tidal drift,
lather spreading over shingle,
creatures siphon into darkness,
world of scavenge.
Not for squeamish, this
preying done wi th radulas and
beaks and sac-like stomachs probing,
always out of sight.
