The Gazelle

“Did he smile his work to see?
    Did he who made the Lamb make thee?”
        ― William Blake  
 
    I am the Gazelle.
 
The Sky is yellow, hot
breath pressing down
on the Earth ―
 
    I am the Earth.
    The Sky breathes down on me.
 
Gazelles dart and leap.
Vultures circle
the Moon ―
 
    I am the Moon,
    and the Vultures circle me.
 
Along the Savanna’s edge,
the cut Sun bleeds
in the grass ―
 
    I am the Sun,
    staining the summer grass.
 
Raw fragments of
Me on the yellow face
of God.

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