The black hands of the Lord
	pressed to the ground
The black ear  
	upon the earth
The black lips
The black belly 
The black body
	uncomposed

The Lord
	covered in crows
	pig-truffled
The Lord
	honey for flies
	a locusts' feast	
The Lord
	a black harbor
	a tomb opened
	in smoke

And 
canisters of 
bone and 
blood - munitions
on the evening news

There
on the ground
behind the cameras

The almond-palmed hands
still filled with clay