Monday, May 09, 2011

Sipping From the River

On bended knee, I sip
from the river of the lost
and the possible
then drink. I am not
soiled, not
poisoned--on the contrary
au contraire.

Mignon: a favorite
french word tout mignon
and it is that,
the cricket
by my sandal watching me.
Waiting? No
not waiting, but I know:
he wants something from me
a true voice, let's say,
that I open my mouth and make
something worth my breath.

And now the birds
chime in--a conspiracy
working in my favor and so
all at once
I am floating. Clouds
of angels egg me on
and with a single
full-fledged Yes
I honor them all.


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