Field of Depth

I dreamt a priest with irrational hands,
eyes deeper than space.
His vestment ran with color like rivers
and wild beasts roamed his robes.
The open field was his only church,
under an unfamiliar sky.
Later awake I stumbled, late

through the doors of a surrogate church,
to the only seat in a front row pew,
breaking into the middle of the homily,
into other people's blessings.
I silently supposed I must impose
a penalty upon myself for the

misuse of prayer
when I jumped the gun and said Amen!
too soon.
No one noticed save the priest,
who looked deep inside me with patient eyes,
as she thumbed a cross on my forehead
with steady hands.