‘Look at my commodity’

‘Look at my commodity,’ he said to me.

‘Look into my hand. What do you see?

‘I’ll tell you.

‘You see invisible made visible.

‘The world made flesh, that it might here be pressed

‘into my flesh — convey its truth,

‘to one, to all,

‘of one, of all.’

He said. I rode away. Uncertain as to the cowing hills,

floods that wash away,

the lights above.

The dreadful specter of another god.