Holy Saturday

descendit ad Inferos
exorcised from the father’s arms
not the god of the Dead but of the living
borne—o pietà!—to the depths
where they praise you no more

kill and crucify! crucified him!
Mother mary, how, o how you weep this day
for your son of Darkness
tears enough to drain a way for crossing

devastated orbits and darkened gravity—all shudders
all hangs suspended, en attente de la réponse
das Nichtige consumes, consumes and is not satisfied

with the blood of the Saint
from whose amber stretches rise. rise

he is the Living god
at dawn