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.