Three Questions, One Experiment by Jane Adam
what kind of face thinks
it can explain holiness to us—thinks
it can tell us what we are supposed to be
grateful for—what does that face look like?
we’re told to avoid the snake—the one who knows
how to shed her heavy old skin, transmute
her poisons, burn through her interruptions—but
couldn’t we ever have used her logic?
the acid beauty, the one that’s never
on the map, the one that cleans
our eyes and ears:
we are never warned about that one, are we?