from “The Virgin Annunciate by Antonello da Messina”

Again.     Closer.

This time only one hand startles,

Losing her place in the book of hours.

The other goes on worrying the light

Habit of modesty worn to protect the angels.

Will it be the image bound to emerge from this blur of words

Shuddering through her? A full moon of the language of rising up

And coming down, building up and tearing down, swelling until

Everything she sees echoes with its own formation and demise….

– Jenn Cavanaugh