Introitus

The wisest of all the wise virgins,

I sit patient in waiting,

    my eyes full

    of the guest yet unseen.

Fingers trembling already

    I trim deepset wicks,

    lay silver and a course of wines,

    set loose armfuls of roses.

My perfumed silks I lay out,

    the beautiful objects in my possesion

    cunningly arranged for our lips' soft discussion.

I rehearse,

    my head thrown back,

    the way we may begin.

The hymn brims deep from the throat,

    the praises

    of the radiance

    of the beauty

    of the bridegroom.

I laugh to catch my breath,

    and to make light

    of his light.

These stories,

    prettily embroidered

    in the advent of the beloved,

lie at the heart

    of the wisdom

    of the patience

    of virgins.

I do not know that the prince will come:

    And that doubt

    shapes the only innocence

        shining in this wise face --

the lamp held high

    blazing the way

    to deep feasts.

October 1989