by A. K. LaMotte

Sunday morning before dawn,
I made a deal with Silence.
I sold everything
and got nothing in return.
Even the neutrons inside
my atoms were thrown
into the bargain.
They became pure light
and lost their market value.
I could only dance.
This is how to do
business on the Sabbath.
Jesus spoke of such
ruthless negotiations.
“Love will make you poor,”
he said, but everyone
thought he was talking
about politics.
Friend, here’s what he meant:
“Get rich by dumping
your mind like a sheaf
of junk bonds.
Become so destitute
that stillness is treasure
and emptiness prosperity.”
Thus I bartered with him
and lost it all –
the body, the earth, the sky.
Now the sun rises like some
infant’s bubble from my lips.
Mountains covered with fresh snow
are a weightless mirage in the
blue space of my wonder.
The sea kissing the shore
is the trembling laughter
of my own breath.
I traded my armor and shield
for inestimable nakedness.
I belong to someone else now.
Everything’s been sold
to the master of astonishment.

 

Fred’s newest book is a collaboration of art and poetry with artist Rashani Réa.