I thought I was growing wings —
it was a cocoon.
I thought, now is the time to step
into the fire —
it was deep water.
Eschatology is a word I learned
as a child: the study of Last Things;
facing my mirror — no longer young,
the news — always of death,
the dogs — rising from sleep and clamoring
and howling, howling,
I see for a moment
that’s not it: it is
the First Things.
Word after word
floats through the glass.