Jan Lee Ande

Selected poems from
Mystic in the Cloister

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Corners of the Mouth | After the Burning | Sabbatical

Once ashes had fallen from the sky
like gray moth wings
and settled onto branches brittle as ribs.

Far from the camps he made a home
between the shoulder blades
of boulders. There he wrote his poems.

Anointed by words, he read to spotted
deer and foxes, the antlered elk—
recited the coming of days to wolves.

He followed a honey buzzard to a hive
fed on honey, danced with bees.
Cells of wax clung to his wild beard.

Nights he lay awake under the stars
and named them for ones who burned
—Daniel, Leon, Anna, Sophie, Franz.

Thunder shook his body, blessed him.
Raindrops big as grapes pelted the ground.
His gaunt hands broke into blossom.

He saw angels at their worship spun
into flame, then the fallen
ashes. He did not pluck out his eyes.

© Jan Lee Ande 2007