Robert Haight

These monks
in their white robes
have fasted so long
only smiles
lean from their skeletons.

They are yellow teeth
and bones.

Tassel hats rattle
and silk sleeves swish
as they sweep the aisles
with brooms fashioned
from a stalk and leaves.

They whisper all morning
bow in the wind
then raise their heads
to the rising sun

the sky's
pristine blue dome.