PERSONNEL II

Do the angels of Bread Street have jobs?

I have never seen them working.

They sleep in doorways

Their great wings furled about them.

They breakfast together unspeaking,

Passing around sacks of stale rolls.

THE ONE GOD LEFT ON BREAD STREET

One god alone – a small one, old and canny –

Remained behind, hiding behind a barrel.

Because he never asked them the cats

Of Bread Street would bring him gifts:

Pieces of string, parts of mice, prayers

Too slow to escape their claws. To pass the time

He’d answer the prayers with constructs

Of delicate bones knotted together.

WHEN THE GODS DEPARTED ALEXANDRIA

When the gods departed Alexandria
Music played. In Bread Street, a flute-girl
Held onto six notes; a rhythm was preserved
In the dreams of an old priest whose wife
Remembered a shadow of silence between the notes.
Call the flute-girl's name -- song will company your days;
Dream of the priest  - you will rise up
The servant of grace. What the priest's wife brings
Are not for words of mine to say.