And did I seek the Kingdom? Will the Kingdom Come? The idea of it there, Behind its scrim since font and fontanel, Breaks like light or water, Like giddiness I felt at the old story Of how he'd turn away from the motif, Spread his legs, bend low, then look between them For the mystery of the hard and fast To be unveiled, his inverted face contorting. Like an arse-kisser's in some vision of the damned Until he'd straighten, turn back, cock an eye And stand with the brush at arm's length, readying.