If I Were a Poet

Standing on the roof of the temple,
I could see the whole world,
and it would all be mine, if only

apples,
apples as sweet as honey,
and feathery hands of love
offering them.
I could eat those apples
and hold those hands forever, if only

the mountains would become sand
and the sand would be beaches,
infinite beaches,
infinite fields of grain,
ripe, all mine, fields
and vineyards overflowing,
all mine, if only

the sky—
The sky! The clouds,
the sun, the moon,
the galaxies of forbidden stars
all mine, if only—

if only I would bow down.