“I woke up and saw the lid of Sunday raise...it was the Christ moment/that seemed before orgasm...”
—Clayton Eshleman, “Just Before Sunday Morning”

It grows
in dusty snow blown
in darkness, grey shine
when all electric lights
are out. The glow
from no one place,
anticipated fire ready
to ignite.
    Clouds burn
away black linings;
perhaps, as horizon
turned again to sun,
it really was a face
above the clouds,
for just an instant.