Poem / His Theology

His Theology

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and the winter sun
came up once more
sweeping past spring
into summer over
the Eno river,
over the silver trees, over
between him, and her
who wished for a chickadee
to appear with her haloed crown
but lost instead in the pain;
its solidity and precision
to fill a lot of space

he knew,
what other men know
about worship and
the things he enjoyed to touch:
decorated hair
concerned face
concentric breasts
thighs

he knew,
the truth about himself and her, and
this very moment;
the pain that drives women
to visions, to search
small rocks
and into the water,
and sometimes other men;

these walks where
there is no return

he knew,
these women, this pain . . .