A Modern Psalm

Love the grinder shaves the bead
Of iron flush to its bed

And she the mothersisterwife
Dreamed of engines to transport her:

Huge, whinging, singing,
While her son, circling,

Used first her first and next her last
As the target for his desire.

The hungry mouth at milk
Urges the simple pump

Rubber, supple,
Grown heavy with seed

As the grinder,
Love, shaves the bead.


© Dan Goorevitch, 1998