Alabaster

Alabaster, I am told,

Is translucent orange–white waxy stone

And smells of Egypt in dreams

Of preserved empires in cool tombs.

I close my eyes and see

A slender vase, cream-colored

With light melting through it.

Another thing is India–

The mysteries of

Cobras slowly sliding, restrained lightening.

Whirling-ringed dancers,

Saried women with long black hair,

Wide-eyed, dark-eyed children,

I have never seen.

And another thing is God

Whom, I am told, is my father.

I have heard a soul whisper

Just a little past the window in the night

And I cry back in my sleep.

But I’ve never dared look out.