let’s say
that the religion we will invent
speaks of three nights.

on the first night
we have waited through fall, winter and divorce
cold from wanting something we do not know
we slam open like doors in the wind
in the morning
you leave me for a dream you had
night curls in a ball and holds her ears

on the second night
I have left my red hat at the restaurant
we are in the warm bed
today we are sphinxes
we have forgiven our bodies their strange questions
the hundred-page letter I wrote you
flies away, it has become real
the night walks onward
carrying dawn on her proud head

on the third night
we marry surrounded by reeds and wheat
the sun comes down to sign our marriage contract
when everyone has gone away
with their drums and the remains of grasses
my body climbs into your body
returning to the place I wanted to be born
night opens her legs to us at last
there is no wall between her and us

as with the myths of all religions
we cannot repeat these revelatory events
but we can tell their story