At Hagia Irene

This is the place they made the creeds.
Which I suppose is like the place
they split the atom. Light from light,
true God from true God,
hydrogen and helium
both begotten, not made.

I feel like there should be a crater
in this old Byzantine clay,
but there are only pigeons
roosting in the bougainvillea. A trio
of grey wings among the leaves,
dusty and mottled until they split the sun,
are iridescent underneath the dust.

There’s a reason they called the test sites Trinity,
a fission of wholenesses, a dazzling darkness as
attempts to dissect mystery result in fire and
annihilation. Try to peer at all things
visible and invisible and nature cleaves
like a Godhead made both of matter
and of flame. This is the place they split
the atom. Which I suppose is like
the place they made the creeds.