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


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