Cave

I.

Two pools forgetting themselves in each other,

we open our mouths to pour vomit and light,
wriggling worms passed from beak into beak.

I empty ammonite in your diamond vessels. You carry them
to waterfall shrines to be lost. Partner,

we pace mirrored twelve-mat chambers,
maps touched with charcoal, milky erasers,

wandering identical, separate terrains.

II.

They’re emptying the potties onto 39th street
and the smelly cool streams casting painful flecks of light
drain through punctures in His side, into fissures in His hands,
to sediment deposits without fragmenting or waning.