Temple Detail

It’s not all that important,
What your life is made of—it’s just
Astonishingly detailed,

Astonishment being one
Occasional chime among
Those details, like the herring-

Bone weave of the blanket mass-
Manufactured that happened
To end in the hospital

Bed struck by lamplight, being
Contemplated by the man
With the bald head and long beard

Who is both a dustbunny
And a thread passed through the weave
Of the mechanical room

Of blinking, beeping signals
And its own humble details,
The small rip in the cushion

Of the swivel chair a nurse
Snuck in, so that she wouldn’t
Have to stand at her station.

If you happened to look up
From the weave of the blanket
Cranked out along its template,

You’d glimpse night and a temple
Lit up all night long all nights.
More details in the temple.