The nation stirred in its husk and slept again. / Two slabs of bloody meat lay folded on its eyes like wings. / Like a hard glossy painting the nation slept. / Who can invent a new fear? / Yet I have invented sin, thought Isaiah, running his hand over the knobs. / And then because of a great attraction between them— / which Isaiah fought (for and against) for the rest of his life— God shattered Isaiah’s indifference. / God washed Isaiah’s hair in fire. / God took the stay. / From beneath its meat wings the nation listened. / You, said Isaiah. / No answer.