In Black Glass

Love is an obsidian god.

In shadows, impenetrable as stone;

Yet transparent as black glass,

had we light enough to penetrate

the whole of love–

more light than any sun.

Take him in hand, heedless

of the chance of cuts

glass gives,

quick to harm;

He is firm and smooth,

dark as smoke,

liquid as ice,

solid as stone,

easy to break.

In Mexico, on sunlit altars,

Men of God made mounds

of bleeding hearts

harvested with knifes

of black glass, paper-thin.

The light passed through.

–October 30, 1997