And then the doors drew back and I could see,
Scaling up the high void, plum and pear-green
Parapets, pomegranate balustrades
Portioned by molten silver trim that
Sizzled as it spiraled up and down
The skied poles like boas scoured by lightning.
No structure met them there: they just met air;
Balustrade and parapet, unseen, seen,
Floating where in principle they should be,
As though they were the establishment, and
Not the embellishments. I touched my face
To make sure it, too, was still there. Felt for
It as a frightened fish feels for deeper
Water—. “Who the hell’s Heaven is this?”
I asked that half of myself I thought
Might have recognized some familiar thing
Under that star-beleaguered dome, that void,
Where giants moved against the blinding backdrop
So quickly my mind understood them as
Moving slowly as though it were being
Lapped on a track. This was not a Heaven
Of my invention. And that’s what scared me:
That I didn’t make it or dream of it;
I didn’t believe in it or buy it.
And yet there it stood: the supreme city;
Feral, spurned, and up on its hind legs
Like a bear before a walker in the woods.