I: Noise

He had gone to bed late and woke
up early. After washing and
readying himself, he brought
her her coffee just when the
morning sun was brightening
their room. She stretched her
smooth soft arms (soft as the
comforter) and, in a voice still
thick with the honey of dreams,
murmured, "Where are my
babies?"

"What kind of question is
that? I sent them to China!"
he said, mouthful of vinegar
and darkness.

There is too much noise in the world
so bite your tongue.

There is too much noise in the world
so cross your heart
and hope not to die.

There is too much noise in the world
like a radio giving all the news
you'd really rather not hear,
like a movie that jumps its sprockets
and turns its music into
a jumbled scree of sound,
like women, children, men
sliding helplessly down an icy scrim
into a mock emotional death.
There is too much noise.

At church I sing.
While trying to reach God with the tune
I hide my crow's voice
because I've heard men sing like me
and it's embarrassing.
There are some hymns I think I know;
Praise God from Whom etcetera and
Our Father are two. I try when I
sing to hear the men and women round me
and to blend my voice with theirs
but only once on one amen did
the sound come true and my
whole body from soles to
crown vibrated with intense
harmonics, startling me into
a new communion. O God
I and others have been weak
or careless and in spite of you
in spite of us have sinned
but then I was buoyed, awake
a wave (each one of us) on the same small sea,
or so it seemed to me, turned up
by the same clear wind.