Compline

That we await a blessed hope, & that we will be struck

With great fear, like a baby taken into the night, that every boot,

Every improvised explosive, Talon & Hornet, Molotov

& rubber-coated bullet, every unexploded cluster bomblet,

Every Kevlar & suicide vest & unpiloted drone raining fire

On wedding parties will be burned as fuel in the dark season.

That we will learn the awful hunger of God, the nerve-fraying

Cry of God, the curdy vomit of God, the soiled swaddle of God,

The constant wakefulness of God, alongside the sweet scalp

Of God, the contented murmur of God, the limb-twitched dream-

Reaching of God. We’re dizzy in every departure, limb-lost.

We cannot sleep in the wake of God, & God will not sleep

The infant dream for long. We lift the blinds, look out into ink

For light. My God, my God, open the spine binding our sight.