A Poem for the Small Face

these to be here
at this table
the king cuts
grooves from his ring in

be pleased with
this meeting
this center of powers
all winged

to bring joy to it
now
is his hour of peace
without anger

draw near me
thou see my companions
be night without
judgment

those dogs
wild with chutzpah
keep out
may not enter

but send for
Ancient of Days
exchanging
the jewel in his forehead

his peace
as he sees it
releases the light from
the shells

& will flow with it
into each orifice
these will conceal
under domes