reflections through a small window
i sailed alongside a mountain in the sky,
great and dark,
its slopes sheer and
reaching to impossible heights,
its peak an ominous,
expansive plateau,
in its body, caves of
storms,
bright, angry whips
thrashing and warning.
i sailed past, and this
pillar of vapor
gave my eyes to the sun,
resigning behind distant
cover,
setting the fringes
alight,
casting long shadows,
and then i saw the cliffs
of its face.
and there, where the
ruffled front slopes met the summit,
three faces carved of
cloud,
leering downward, ahead,
and upward,
casting eyeless gazes at
the plains below, at the dying sun, and at heaven.
and these three screamed a
pained, furious chorus in unison,
“fools! we see you without eyes! stand and be cleansed!”