THE PRAYER

He kneeled down
        dismissing his orisons
as inappropriate; one by one
        they came to his lips and were swallowed
but without bile.
        He fell back
on an old prayer: Teach me to know
        what to pray for. He
listened; after the weather of
        his asking, no still, small
voice, only the parade
        of ghosts, casualties
of his past intercessions. He
        held out his hands, cupped
as though to receive blood, leaking
        from life�fs side. They
remained dry, as his mouth
        did. But the prayer formed:
Deliver me from the long drought
        of the mind. Let leaves
from the deciduous Cross
        fall on us, washing
us clean, turning our autumn
        to gold by the affluence of their fountain.