virgin river gorge
light in flashes
etching on the stained glass
of an airy cathedral.
the sunken inhabitants
bow with a dusty grief,
between glances' reflection
and endless work.
monks might chant greedily
for a cute salvation.
no.
their drab gowns are
eternal, invisible,
buried in the red rock
and silt--
voices drowned in the
insistent rapids.