Dream of the Last Shaker

We stream into the meetinghouse through two doors like twin cords in the same braid. I love the men, all of them lined up like God’s long finger. The sun …

We stream into the meetinghouse
through two doors

like twin cords
in the same braid.

I love the men,
all of them

lined up like
God’s long finger.

The sun attends everything
equally: the wood, the bend

of her white muslin sleeve,
the outstretched arm of the apocalypse.

Take hold of my shoulder.
Shake me awake.

Damian Rogers
Damian Rogers published her most recent collection of poetry, Dear Leader, in 2015.

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