Tuesday, April 7, 2009


His body covered in feathers, far above
God views the geometry of the world,
Clean and orderly, a ruled grid;
With each step I take toward him,
I feel him make a move toward me,
Like some half-dreamed game of chess with mirrors;
From a thousand miles away he rushes to meet me,
To reunite with his king-stolen child--
Is he simply dropping,
Like a hawk--

I will not know until I feel in my dorsal flesh
The sweet embrace
Of his talons.

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