Andrew Maxwell
vigil
Ecstatic as winter which finally gathers. Each intimate flower now finally gathers.
Now into one silence. One silence abiding
beneath all this dry speech. As narrow. As modeless. As
that which appears. As mere breath. As mere
breath and soft
snowfall. Drawn out of this dry speech.
As narrow.
Sweet smoke now of only. In solitude shows you
where winter and shade will
give way to this one word.
This one word which your soul. This
one word which
secretly
your soul will burn will burn still.
––––
kenosis
Deeper shade therein. That juniper rune
of which only the slightest
beginning of moonlight and silence
beginning again
of which nakedly therein. Might therein
the reading reveal.
*
Though thicketed therein. That evenlight therein
is poured. Is poured suddenly
out like that
blood of which. Only that blood
of which therein.
Stilled.
Silence might offer
already your open
lips only some slighter
sweet taste.
*
Though thicketed therein. That other tongue therein.
Made even as ravenous even as
wide as wide lightning. Might therein strike
whyless
entire.
Might therein that other tongue.
Nothing now speak.
*
Though throated like nightfall. Though flowering therein.
That by which
your silence might therein.
*
New meanings might breathe.
––––
Andrew Maxwell is from Bucks County, Pennsylvania. His poems have previously appeared in digital vestiges, antiphony, Image, and Colorado Review, among other places.