In one beginning, I gathered God
into my hands, piece by piece,
and made of Them a kind of life.
And from this life
came the sound of words
until all silence ceased.
One by one, their meanings
mounted a procession
upon the blank page of my death.
This was the animation
of the world, marking the occasion
of my presence—each eventuality
and accident which began
what steel-drummed incident
became my heart. I was so far
from all of my yearnings.
I had not yet learned
you could suffer
all your supplications
and still not unlace
such ache as was implicit
in desire. Something in us works
toward the disfigurement of knowing.
Had I any intimation then, this fact
would have devoured me.
J. David
J. David is a Ukrainian-American poet living in Cleveland, Ohio, where they are an MFA candidate in poetry at Cleveland State University. They are the editor-in-chief of Flypaper Lit, art and media editor of BARNHOUSE Journal, and reviewer for the Cleveland Review of Books. A member of the Sad Kid's Superhero Collective, their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Salt Hill Journal, Passages North, The Journal, Cosmonauts Avenue, Frontier Poetry, Puerto del Sol, and others.
