There is a sinus in its giant head
We will be safe there
It will be light
Before it is dark
We will pray from inside it
To its outside
We will beseech it
Not to reach inside itself
And pluck us out
As before


Love Poem with Ghosts

The water has stopped flowing in the canal,
and now we have only the ghosts of old lovers
in dormer windows. You look twice
and they are gone. Can we think of this
as nutrition too, as we do with the museums
which are filled with dead things?