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      June 7, 2016Mark WagenaarLittle Song (Altar)

      I found the way
      of no way by avoiding
      the path that had been
      avoided. What did
      I hope to find
      but a self beyond self,
      one past hunger,
      or ambition, some
      essence past essence.
      Like the Bee Gees
      without blow or a beat,
      or a redneck sans
      mullet, like a self-addressed
      ransom note, or a map
      with no directions—
      only the places where
      horses have drowned.
      I thought of the juggler
      without his one impossible
      trick: to make one
      of the balls in the air
      completely still
      while the world goes on
      around us. If you
      had a ballot without
      names, would you
      have a ballot for
      the nameless? One
      for the vanished.
      My friend, there will
      never again be a
      Mediterranean Sea
      without the thousand
      who drowned this week.
      Their names are no-
      where. Can you pray
      for those without?
      And what would a prayer
      without names or words
      sound like? And if
      there’s no cathedral
      you could dream for
      this prayer of no
      prayer, you might say it
      in this little skiff
      that once carried
      refugees, now dry-
      docked for good,
      boat that no longer
      serves as a boat
      but a reliquary of
      fifty square feet
      of empty air, while
      you break a body
      that is not here
      to remember a death
      that was the death
      of death, you hold still
      while the incense cloud
      billows like fog
      upon the water,
      & remember those
      you never knew who
      you lost, remember
      the one who told you
      I will make you
      fishers of men.

      from Poets Respond

      Mark Wagenaar

      “A priest used a former refugee boat as the altar for Mass, to memorialize the refugees who had drowned.”

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