Ann Lauterbach

Prey (Botticelli)

To walk slowly behind
And so to be late

Too late to take cover
Too late for alms

So slowly
Drops drilled into snow

Not mistaken for tears
Not made into fuel

Slowly behind the engine
Guided ahead

To wonder if the dream
Is guided to its end

To speak aloud to the dream
At the curb of dawn

Its bag of spoils
To talk slowly

Standing behind
The man looking down

Do not kill the man
As he bows in prayer

The ambush
Within the walls

The eyes of the child
Photographed again

Still too late
Without counsel or means

Shabbily attired
Shoeless in a park

On the streets with no name
In the country of The

To look at his neck
At the coil of his hair

The arc of his brow
His deliberate lips

To wonder how his voice said
This is this, this is not

Something must survive
Be found under snow

The cloth
The glass

The bag
The cup

May as well
Wake to the voice

Not interfere
Not yet be part

The aftermath
Of what was done, what not

A percentage or guess
Far from the source

About the shoe in the landscape
Walked to its end

Static in snow, the enemy the

Awaiting internment
Things of the world

Always too late
To turn

Away from the flight
Path and roof

Infinite sand, infinite ice
Too late

To resist the zone
The brow of a hill

The open eyes
The dump of the dead.