~ Phillip Whidden
Apotheosis
We want incisors on the skull of hate
To bite it till it gives up music, art
And epic thoughts, yes, all of loving’s freight
Desired. We want those teeth to gnaw the heart
Until it yields the mathematics of
Our highest beauties, turning dreams from want
To all the servants of our Everest love,
Perfections like the autumn of Vermont
In scarlet, orange and yellow leaves but made
To last. We want this whitened chewing on
The hills of mind. We want the best of shade
Sahara would create in heaven’s dawn.
We want wide Bachs, their fugues, Da Vinci’s scenes
And transmigration of doomed Shakespeare queens.