After inhaling doubts baked in a furnace with a hint of daylilies,
after the rhino leaps the river, tracing the shadow of the ark
below vapor currents tailing the new doves behind the sun,
its palpable flare a rising mirror of sublimated hopes, someone
at the other side of the banks dares to stretch wide palms––up,
and again, as if to touch the hem of a garment and be healed.