Maranatha

No god, no prayer.
Hands on knees, breath no more than
the quietest heart-

beat. The dark inward.
Only the ancient mantra
occupies me now.

But how now? Presence
of the weird word, tensed between
past and present, both/

and. Impossible
to say that in a single
breath. Who breathes with me?

Something surfaces—
stars on the winedark ocean.
Anathema! O,

I do not own my
life! What interrupts me now?
Intimate laughter.

Author: Tom D'Evelyn

Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Portland OR and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.

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