Prayer in Pink

The clouds: chalkdust-infested
arc over the sea, early morning,
it is not to be believed
so beautiful, so temporary.
It has shown up so many times
before like this only
to leave the unplastered
mosque behind once again, undescribed.
There is an urgency to decorate the temple
as if competition knew its forefather,
as if it were possible to render
the sky in tablets of stone,
rivers trapped in pipes
and worshippers falling forward
on their knees to make parables
of their own in the off-hours.
This is what happens next
to the voices with five chances.