consider for a moment the key
consider the handle
I cannot tell anymore when
a door opens or when it closes
all I hear is a beckoning
from the other side
blues coming from our roots
while at night I dream
of bonfires and ghosts of men
laden with irreconcilable tombstones
names of archangels emblazoned
behind a bird of flames
it is only a short walk
to another room and
I can see the river water rising
crystal in your incomparable arms and legs
your fingertips turning from fiery spindles
into satin tendrils cloaking me
in the soft confidence of a lover's kiss
the sun behind me is like a fire
tiny flames survive in the river's ripples
I say something to God
he's listening but
I hear no answer
so I ask the river
and God answers
in the windfall of thunder and
the coruscation of lightning
I stand drenched
alone
I am Aristophanes
holding a sheaf of new layers shaking
like a weak-kneed lamb searching
for my lost half
and there you are writing
grocery lists on the bottom of your shoes
asking me to take a walk
in a cemetery with you
and your dog
we walk
God follows
we talk
God listens and
as the walled road narrows
we melt together
and become one
Robert Combs
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-105/
