From where I sit on the campus steps
I see the twin steeples
of the cathedral four blocks uptown
rise in relief against a pale tint of sky.
The roofs of small houses kowtow at its side.
A slant of sunlight
and wave of trees
all conspire to design
a watercolor portrait—a sudden village.
Still. Impenetrable.
Students make their way from fields and doorways,
their shadows long and quick
against the brick.
I am in love with their disregard, their many ways
of unknowing.
Sitting on the steps of this Jesuit school I try to write
poetry but can’t
keep my eyes off that damned church,
the sky, the clouds,
the jab and flow of that girl’s cotton skirt
making more of this material world
than either of us
will ever know.