I’ve never been content with less than
God. Visions
like interior castles:
a red and white blanket
over grass, broken
slabs of tile, folded denim
in a fishing boat, sand-gold
grains of rice, all the colors
that tint a bruise—
It is as if I were seeing time
or the whole story I once knew
laid across the altarpiece of my mind,
as piercing and startlingly beautiful
as the glance of the beloved.
And I see the world suddenly in its true form:
God has no body other than mine.
I could begin to become it.
Annie Schumacher is a poet, writer, and translator. Her work can be found in The London Magazine, Poet Lore, Poetry London, California Quarterly, and elsewhere.
