Magnus es, Domine, laudabilis valde (Augustine, Confessions)

The animals orbit, elk, flickers,

moose, one white tail with the face of St. Rose of Lima,

as thick moons

both above grass and against a heavy flesh slab

inside hills, their looks shafts.

The eyes grown by the flanks of the most eastern hills

pour their oddly odored light into the animals’ eyes

so an isthmus inches between them, vital drip, breath

tube, and this luscious, communicated paste secures, binds up,

the tangled elliptical rushes of creatures,

which otherwise would be bolt-loose tilt-a-whirls.