Читать книгу Long after Lauds - Jeanine Hathaway - Страница 15

Let a fast place, with one door, enclose thee.

—Rule of St. Columba

Atop a wave, a narrow door floats—blue

against the lake’s own blue. It seems a test: what

pitches toward shore meaning more than nothing,

or less? The ex-nun’s here on fall retreat,

to learn among her chaste and faithful friends

what God and she might ask for at this point.

The blue door bobs to flash a bit of brass,

a glinting hinge or knob or fish. A swell

rehangs the door. The lock’s still on.

The lower panel’s blown, perhaps kicked in,

or thrown by weather up against a rock,

flipped over time itself the open frame.