OF THE KINGDOM OF THIS WORLD

I speak
of the girl with the face disfigured by fire
and sweet, upright breasts like two windows of light,
of the blind boy whose mother describes a color to with invented words,
of the cleft-lip kiss never given,
of the hands that never came to know that the light rain is tepid like the neck
                                                      of a bird,
of the half-wit who stares at the coffin where his father will be buried.
I speak of God, perfect as a circle, and all powerful and just and wise.