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?