to the dark armpit, my child face
pressed so close I could not see the whole
fragrant Beast. And I bit
for that hollow room where I had learned to live.
I had stopped hammering the door.
Let me be. Give me peace.
On the other flank, five priests washed their feet
with sewage while soldiers wrecked above.
To the clammy hush, a Father prayed,
Stay with us. Give us peace.
And as a boy forced in the day (he had found
their still-warm beds), all five missed his cry.
The black was in their eyes.
