The Left Hand of God

too much for a toughest stomach
disguise escaped to the mission hill
hands so beautifully formed
last drop to the last test-tube  
lowest coolie with one brow cocked 
would be genial to feel it in inflection 
the hook we hung our miracle on 

husky patients, enough nourishment 
to be murdered with axes 
a sense of well being 
too big for something we had to learn
inner compulsion held to vanish 

that anything was once his height
a man of ordinary Chinese tried 
to think his way
in love with her untried walls

        a dark mass now