You saw them then,

                                                the
material

encouragers,

                             whiffletree
between

weary horses, cart

full of cauliflowers,

plodding through the harrowed

fields, glebe they say,

of memory,

and maidenheads for sale in frightened countries,

Eighth Avenue in evening shadow,

eggplant hurried supper

seminarians back to the book,

book,

             that sly theology the eyes believe—

and dear god the things we do to each other.