Somewhere
without me
my life begins
He who lives it
counts on a cold rosary
God's ninety-nine Names in Arabic
The unknown hundredth he finds in glaciers
then descends into wet saffron fields
where I wait to hold him
but wrapped in ice
he by-passes me
in his phantom cart
He lets go of the hundredth Name
which rises in calligraphy from his palm
Fog washes the sudden skeletons of maples
Farther into the year by a broken fireplace
I clutch the shiver of a last flame
and forget every Name of God
And there in the Mountains
the Koran frozen into the year
he waits for news of my death
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