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.
poems 2 die for 