Sacred Wood

The Hamadryad’s breasts 

and nipples were 

bark-brown, like her 

insides drying in the sun. 

Turning away, he mused 

on the difficulty  

of representing the 

divine in time. 


He already knew that 

the Roman emperor 

(his soldiers urinating 

in the rain), 

forcing his entry into  

the temple, 

would find 



Which was logical: 

the inexplicable is nothing 

(not viceversa). 


What would ensue was the 

frantic stroking  

of the fish’s belly 

with dirty fingers. 


What are you looking for?