AMEN TO THAT

AMEN TO THAT

the spaces
between words

letting me hedge
my bets
with you threatening
to go
full Plato
get universal with me

can’t
allow that to happen

need to scratch around here
making my own noise
doing (as they say
in sixties-speak)
my own
thing

the light fading
and light, searing light
an intimate part of
my origin story

what saved me
in saving my father’s
seed

thoughtful fireball
suddenly at the heart of two cities
obviating the tactical need
for father flyboy, Mr Grand Slam,

to drop serious deathload
on temples and those
sweet bridges you see
painted on
porcelain

maybe catch some
vengeful ferocious flak
my brother
told me
      without little boy and
his fraternal thermonuclear twin
(dropped on
that most Christian of
Far Eastern Cities)

he and I might
not be having
this conversation

you and I sort of making
acquaintance

whatever that
is precursor to
(the spaces
             between words
throwing
a spanner
blowing us off track)

and yet
    if we are, despite appearances
to the contrary, about to meld
go full Plato
before
     some altar

would smile and say
Amen to that. Amen to that.