Helen Keller at the Rodeo

To despair is to no longer have

experiences, except the idea thereof—

to be cosseted in a black cape,

immune to both sights and sounds.

It’s watching you watch the matador

taunt the bull with the veronica maneuver,

the selfsame motion of a woman of faith,

who wiped the face of Jesus while he walked

to Calvary. Lord, we all crave release,

be it at the ring in Cheyenne, Wyoming

or along Orchard Road, in Singapore.

The world is a welter of homonyms.

How does one finally arrive, get born?

I am writing your name as if I were a Trojan

who expected someone else to smooth the shore.