SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2007
Your Worship
I am your pilgrim, who wanders
to stay home; your monk,
who keeps silent when you demand
confessions and theology.
You are too difficult to love
directly; you have no roof
or floor, and I am too pious
for your rain and mud.
So I keep your shrine, the best of you,
the clean, the smiling rest of you.
I am a stubborn priest, who knows
himself
only in the dwindling oil of you,
the weeping and rebellious flame
about to die.
-Val Vinokur
About the Author
Val Vinokur is an assistant professor of comparative literature at The New School. His poems have appeared in The Massachusetts Review and New American Writing.
