It existed, predestined in the cure-box of cause
It apprises us still, moment by moment, language like a hand on
the sword dropped briefly so that a fish could be placed on the
of blind, miserable, tolerant Tobias.
Tobias accepted the consequences as artfully achieved,
the pity-poem denuded, excerpted from the "text."
But in that fixed aurality the "text" had survived its
own melodic utterance,
became useful as a miraculous tale:
They laid a fish upon the saint's eyes (this is where the it, the
is altered/alters itself to become a they/a we).
The eyes closed, opened again, and then saw!
The rime of the sea salt stringent as a prayer, caustic as the
invisible decree: Your eyes are healed, Tobias (he wasn't St. Tobias,
but would become saint). Where you see a rose, a rose petal will