Elevator

Alone, I press my cheek
to the wall's
brushed steel.

Is the cool, smooth expanse
now? Is it real?
I may be comatose

3,000 miles away --
Maryland or Virginia,
some strange state. I hope

Not, but wish to keep on
stringing this silver thread
the dead may follow home.

Take them, please,
and forgive these men:
I have seen

The white hot glare:
the furnaces of their souls.
They were cold

In their words to me,
but I can bear worse.
Boys will be boys --

Puppy dog tails and dark eyes
that glitter like ice.
I remember to you, oh God, the evil

on which they broke
attempts always to break me,
but finds me tempered instead.

And have they not loved,
and been loved? Your loving eyes
beheld the children to whom they read.

I pray you warm their beds
and receive them.
Thank you for their strength. Amen.