A Poem And A Picture

Ostinato Rigore

As slowly as possible, I said,

and we went into paradise.

Rushes alternate with floating islands

of tomatoes. Stretches of lily pads

and then lotus. The kingfishers

flash and go into the lake,

making a sound in the silence.

After, I can hear her breathing.

The Japanese built gardens eight

hundred years ago as a picture

of the Pure Land, because people

could not imagine a happy life.

My friend lives on the Delaware River

and fashions Eden out of burned

buildings that were the Automats

of his youth in New York.

Another designs a country 

with justice for everyone.

I know a woman who makes heaven

out of her body. I lie in the smell

of water, with the sun going down,

trying to figure out this painful 

model I have carpentered together.

- Jack Gilbert