Cathedral

Not that I needed reminding, but even the trees, the trees!

Like giant awestruck afros grown in the laboratory

of a mad brother, the nerdy Nerudian of my dreams
who’s somehow isolated the colors of all the saddest love songs

in the world—Baby, baby red and Please, please, please
yellow, yes, even the browns are talking to me, the greens
blue in this early autumn light that makes everything shout.
And where’s my hopeless agnostic when I need her,

foreseer of endless wars and sorrows? Is that her running
toward that old abandoned church, cathedral of shadow
and grass? The leaves above trembling like tambourines,
two happy squirrels dancing down the aisle.

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