The sky, like multiplying cancer cells, closed
in behind us and we ran and the clouds
multiplied, multiplied.
The sand closed in over our feet, paralleling
the clouds, as we ran, ran to the rented flat,
friendly with the ocean.
A perfect circle in the center of the sky, the
eye of the storm, calm, surreal, was a vision
into heaven, perhaps.
We escape the bloodstream of the storm
into the flat.
As the cancerous clouds multiplied, two
clouded beings emerged, both male and female—
Adam and Eve emerging from a
cumulous cosmos.
Their features aggregated amongst the clouds
as if they were manifested from earth herself.
I turned toward Adam and Eve, a desperate
bride at the altar, and asked if Jesus sent them.
In the joining room, a bleeding man dripped
blood like the sweetest cream in sunlight—
His head gaping,
his mind clearing.
“We’ve come for him,” Adam and Eve spoke
together, together.
“Tell me, does he go onward and outward
like Whitman said?” I spoke.
and they replied, “He will.”
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