the endless succession of gods
each leaning forward out of its niche
disappearing into dusk
along the curve of the corridor
our steps tap, random as stars,
the crazy paving of the temple floor
past the imperative faces
disturbing the delinquent dust
sight-seeing in this catacomb
we spy the sightless cats
blank-eyed, specked with gems
clutching each thunderbolt or flower
in secret knowledge their lips curl
pointing skyward underground
in gestures of far-flung design
as if distance was itself a door
past each metonymy or petal
is this the exit we’ve been searching for?
