Jungle Temple

 

The seed planted in you must have been caught

from its infancy between wedge-leaf stone.

How many times thwarted finger roots bought

water from the rock? Licked sacrificial bones?

 

Shackled, restless, pushing, it rose atom by atom,

quiet through empires’ ages. Soft roots

locked in frozen battle with pagan

mineral. And now no priest to pull the shoots.

 

Trunks widen: see how they crouch like old warriors

on your carcass! Fallen, fallen—arches,

ceilings, secret rooms. Fear, Vishnu! The

full grown fig with sickle-time will slice your stone.

 

Copyright © 2002-08 Abigail Hilton