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About this Poem 

"I wanted to write a devotional poem to a being who is vast and unreachable, and to emphasize this distance, I made myself into a mouse and the Beloved into the Dimensionless One. The poem tries to address an intense, impossible longing. What if I could see the face of the Beloved even for a moment? The poem became a prayer for that possibility, that chance."
—Sarah Messer

Prayer from a Mouse

Sarah Messer


Dimensionless One, can you hear me? 
Me with the moon ears, caught 
in ice branches?
	
Beneath the sky’s long house,
beneath the old snake tree,
I pray to see even a fragment
of you—
 			whiskers ticking
 
a deserted street,
a staircase leading 
to the balcony
of your collarbone.

Beloved King of Stars, I cannot 
contain my animal movements.

For you I stay like a mountain.
For you I stay like a straight pin.
		
But in the end, the body leaves us 
its empty building. 

Midnight petulant
as a root cellar. Wasps crawling  
in sleeves. I sleep 

with my tail over 
my face, enflamed.

Oh Great Cataloguer 
of Snow Leaves, I pray 
that you may appear 
and carry every piece 
of my fur in your hands.

Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Messer. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on November 29, 2013. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.

Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Messer. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on November 29, 2013. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.

Sarah Messer

Sarah Messer

Sarah Messer is the author of Dress Made of Mice (Black Lawrence Press, 2015). She works at White Lotus Farms and lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

by this poet

poem

Moonlight slept quiet beneath the grandstand,

like flower petals, like highway snowstorms, like each thought
not of November or battlefields. My moping climbed

the Pegasus inside my chest which sped me to you
in this last century of petrol, with my socialism wanting.

I

poem

strung from a thought arrived through the keyhole grasping
the hand of another

I will begin with my mouth

then live with antlers remembering the light inside, always to breathe this unforgetting

and his body shaped like a crabapple tree

or a mother raised by a wolf looking back at the

poem
Line to be sewn into a skirt hem
held in my mouth ever since the  unraveling 

Line beneath a bridge
for years without hope I stretched my arms into the river searching for you

Line to be sent to the cornfield
history is a hallway of leaves.

Line written for electric wires
your voice