Da Vinci Adoration

I stand in the crowd.
Horse men skewered
each other in the background.

Long digits and anxious voices humming
Gathered here to marvel in black
At the new child; I turn away,

Still see the baby’s face. Across
the campus below on thick green lawns
Crowd gathers in white rebirth clothes,

Grass fragrant from horses stamp,
All black misted. I am on the balcony,
A baby blessing the red tower gift.

Jesus Christ is (a pale young shrouded
man turns away) the name of this child;
Echoing through ghost laborers. Offices.

Below the din of religious weedeaters
Are three words—Son of God—
And mahogany terror shaded on

A red tower makes one want to vomit.
Praise to God, O Judgment!—my friend—
Tiny hand of this infant reaching for a gift

Held in the arms of calm mother.
I think muscular horses shiver—
Palm knives assured, oak trees twist

(This is your soul we are talking about!)
That mother and that infant bringing end times
Are calm, only them, are calm.

Balcony view, a tree of leaves,
Are in sharp focus, the black godlike
Leaves with their light breaking, sharp

Over shadow—black—only thing finished.