Saint Julian Press Poet
WHAT WAS THERE
And when it was done,
He set it, just there, on the table,
Between the two kerosene lamps.
Invisible, indivisible, it was his heart
Returned to its primal state.
Only he could see it. People
Came and went. He lit the lamps
Each night for its sake. No matter
Whether the people knew, whether
The poem knew. Poems know nothing.
They point toward things—most of them,
Most times, within the realm of the visible,
Or something just adjacent, love or the planet
On the table. This, this was wholly other.
He had made it to defy his life’s labour.
The deep night owl beyond your vision in sleep
Is my mastery of silent revel, my fulfilled promise
To you, no longer stranger. Hear in that soft
Voice you do not know the warranty of trust,
Your promise, though unfulfilled before, also
Made good. I do not control the image
In your head, but neither is it your image--
Only an assurance to be acted on, mine given
And yours foreseen as night shades into
Dawn, as the light rises, your eyes open to
The partial from which you turned away, and I, fully
Satisfied, fly to the high bough of my expectancy.
NOW by Thommas
Simmons * ISBN-13: 978-0-9986404-0-2
ISBN 10: 0-9986404-0-9
Saint Julian Press, Inc. * 2053 Cortlandt, Suite 200 * Houston, TX 77008 * Ron Starbuck ~ Publisher-CEO
Phone: 281-734-8721 * Email: firstname.lastname@example.org * www.saintjulianpress.com