Light in August is dimmed
by fall rains. The sound and fury
of uncontrollable winds, limbs
falling on hamlets and towns.
These rains, intruders in the dust,
bring mosquitoes to the mansion
where I lay dying, listening
to the requiem for a nun. Faint
memories of spiritual fable--
Go Down, Moses--structure
a pylon for reivers who would
cry Absalom, Absalom!