Ragged Claws

Take it to the river:
let it ride a wicker Moses,
past the wildflowers
and the tail-ends
of the holy crocodiles.
(And take me to your temple,
through the curtain,
deep inside.)
Take it to the mountain:
let it climb like hoof and thorn,
past some stranded Saviour.
Let the sermon
fit the crime.
(And take me to your temple;
to the altar,
deep inside.)

I cast these songs like stars:
distant and small
pinpoints of fire
show me the way back home.