My den, where I am digesting Jacob
for the ensuing consecutive decades
of the authorial Job.
The doted upon
kept its shoes on, waited long
and washed off its perfume
It came late,
mixed with water, a watery plenitude
mildly electrified from its transport car,
early to leave,
grabbed its hooded coat, back to the vapor:
chilled, vast and a great many colors
air and liquidity, more adaptable
A telephone line, obsolete
wraps around my arm
like a jew’s prayer strap.