The Holy Discord of Thirteen|| Fragments

ii. (backwards)

13/ left unfinished, without resolution, the thirteenth hymn fading from the page,

12/ as a row of temple bells, ranging in scale, yet flawed, the last tone in disharmony intentional discord rippling, an arthritic thirteenth note sounding—

11/ here was the altar; here, the nave; here, the thirteen candles burning in a row of perpetual lights—

10/ the more you look, the stronger the shift from absence to presence, the foundation refurbished, reconstructed from fragments of stone,

09/ beside the corner stone, thirteen blind and hairless field mice squirming in their nest of woven grass

08/ thirteen temple priests once carried thirteen tallow candles, chanting in unified processions

07/ mosquitoes breed in the remains of the marble font— the rim still encrusted with thirteen black onyx stones

06/ through the glory of ruins the chaotic number thirteen surfaces

05/ at one time a full collection of thirteen columns supported the rough pediments

04/ erased at the thirteenth hour, only the foundation remaining and one, solitary, red marble column

03/ as if a shrine was once built to the holy discord of thirteen, then erased over a series of thirteen days, thirteen weeks,

02/ An absence made relevant. Persistent. Thirteen meters wide. Thirteen meters deep.

01/ thirteen steps through the grass fields lead to a void in the grass fields


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