The Temple on Vacation

(a dream trip)

Brahma's thousand faces and thousand poses
In a thousand friezes of verdigris-tinted stone
Stretch to the sky, but end like a clubbed foot.
An eczema of gods. Prayer changed to rocks.
But at sunset a miracle, of sorts, unlocks
My heart: a line of light in crimson soot
and opposite, the moon as familiar as bone.
Light will follow light though the brief day closes.