What is the exact number
Of footprints
That are you going to give
In my press.
How many more laps
I have to give
To your walled city
Of Jericho.
How many Chinese walls
I must circumnavigate
So that you release that pigeon
From your flood’s ark
And see
That in me
You have a new sun
And a new land,
That I have hidden
Under the keys
Of my tongue
A New Jerusalem
Made of beryllium
And jasper
And gold
And incense
And myrrh.
