NEARLY DROWN.

TWO MONKS AND A NOVICE IN AN ABBEY IN 1971

The French
peasant monk,
head bowed,
walks

through the cloister,
carrying two buckets
full with milk
from the farm,

his eyes full
of earth's colour.
I wash
in the cold water

from the icy jug,
the cloister seen
from the window above;
I feel her legs

about me,
bringing me in;
there
in the waters

of her passion,
I nearly drown.
The old monk
allows the bell rope

to rise
through his hands,
then
pulls it down.