Station to Station

I’m not sure that I should be telling anyone 

about the marvelous intervention of the gods

about the intrusion of angels and miracles 

inscribed in the wilderness of my desk calendar 

before the tender witness of my day to day 

saintlike vacuuming from station to station 

the ritual and mystery of the cat-box cleaning 

and after-shower hair covered by a dark towel 

maybe we’re yearning for a life of service

because we want there to be some meaning or magic

that we can count with beads for each hour of toil

a kind of bliss that we may draw from industry

to know that our devotions will purchase the heavens

that the fingerprint of our being will not be forgotten.