from Stages of Balthazar (with a Chorus of Elders)

L. K. Holt

1.

Uncertain grey of early morning,

a quick warm cataract

is the birth of donkey,

now stuck with grass and its mother’s gum, legs bunched

under like unlit kindling

The field totters and rights itself

as the foal stands planted fast,

lapidarian beside a sun that shakes

in its haze, an earth

shirking underfoot

—beautiful he

stirs up still things

Trailing afterbirth regally

the mother-mountain instead comes to him:

strikes him over the head with

a teat to set

his flesh on its parting way

—be ahead of all partings,

as long gone already

like winter in spring;

and be ever-dying in your chosen-poison;

the cut-glass cup that shatters itself

and resounds down the great diminishing;

be—yet know

of its antipode,

nothing-source of your trembling ontology:

Oh I am here! And as such

I assent!

Great love overshoots its end

and shifts back its conception:

Was it then a thin

girl hand reached down to touch his curly brow

commanding in a tiny-headed tremolo

Father let us have him.

—Only know:

this is the animal that never was.

Of course he wasn’t.

But as we gave him space

the poor pure beast persisted

and in this place so white unfenced

he barely needed to exist yet raised his head