Cups and swords the prophet fed from, led with,
and an inlaid box with a hair from his holy beard,
all wrought with gold and strewn with jewels like fistfuls
of pebbles from a boy’s pocket hurled to catch
our attention, as if we could forget
our own best boy. Did you
mistake value? Or am I the only tourist here
who heard rubies rattling the pane and guessed
wrong, or guessed right, even glimpsed the heartred
prisms and did not care and left
for a new window,
quickly.