The deer is humble, lovely as God made her
I watch her eyes and think of wonder owned
These strange priests enter the cathedral of woods
And seven Marys clean their hands to woo her
Foot lifted, dagger-sharp-her ears
Poised to their points like a leaf’s head
But the snake strikes, in a velvet arc
Of murderous speed-assassin beautiful
As mountain water at which a fawn drank
Stand there, forever, while poison works
While I stand counting the arms of your Cross
Thinking that many Christs could hang there, crying.
(Kenneth Patchen)
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