Seeing you, I must fall to earth’s center
always. More than just body attraction
though body’s never just. Once in winter
I saw you cloaked, hooded, body’s action
in motion so slow, so exact, vision
of prophet moving without moving, smile
as you saw me, like recalling a pun
or old song. I almost called out how you’ll
never know…but I didn’t. Why do you
keep returning but never arrive? Why
do I keep waiting…or do I? What clue
will guide me? I hear the Muse breathing, sigh
soft echoes of Kinnell’s “When one has lived
a long time alone”. I ask her to give
me faith. Forgive my doubt. Lift my absurd
fear. Tap her soft rhythms. Whisper true words.
Roger Armbrust
June 17, 2020
