Sustain Us

Sustain us in thine arms, and let thy hands
Repair what has been broken in our home,
And we will kowtow to the garden gnome
Who smiles sweetly, as if he understands:
He represents you in these unkempt lands
Where prayers rise up into the foggy dome
That is our firmament. The clouds are chrome,
The stars are bulbs, contrails are rubber bands.

An artificial silence, ruling here,
Warns us to tremble, and our fingers drum
Self-consciously, slowly, using the thumb
For counterpoint, beating a pattern clear
And yet irregular, not joy, not fear,
But something else. For something else will come.