Sheba’s Throne

When the Queen of Sheba came to Solomon,
she left behind her kingdom and her wealth
the same way lovers leave their reputations.

Her servants meant nothing to her,
less than a rotten onion,

Her palaces and orchards,
so many piles of dung.

She heard the inner meaning of La! No!
She came to Solomon with nothing, except
her throne! As the writer’s pen becomes

a friend, as the tool the workman uses
day after day becomes deeply familiar, so
her filigreed throne was her one attachment.

I would explain more about this phenomenon,
but it would take too long.

It was a large throne and difficult to transport,
because it couldn’t be taken apart, being as
cunningly put together as the human body.

Solomon saw that her heart was open to him
and that this throne would soon be repulsive
to her. “Let her bring it,” he said. “It will

become a lesson to her like the old shoes
and jacket are to Ayaz. She can look at
that throne and see how far she’s come.”

In the same way, God keeps the process
of generation constantly before us:

the smooth skin and the semen
and the growing embryo.

When you see a pearl on the bottom,
you reach through the foam and broken sticks
on the surface. When the sun comes up, you forget
about locating the constellation of Scorpio.

When you see the splendor of union,
the attractions of duality seem poignant
and lovely, but much less interesting.