On the Road to Damascus
after Caravaggio
A bolt breaks the shade and knocks
Saul clean off his horse. Unbuckled,
his naked legs are ravished, his cheek and neck
flushed by the light’s concussion.
His hands float beneath the flank
of his horse, whose dull eye lingers
as the groom, bending, leads the mare
into the gloom, grumbling nothing
to see here, Girl, nothing to see. 