Call To Heaven
Poetry’s sacred…
prose not so much
One to be read
the other to touch
The verse spoken freely
in a nighttime array
Phrases eternal
to outlive the day
The medicinal magic
that hides in each line
Lifts my body to flight
in a nocturnal climb
The prose gets pounded
and pounded again
And its linear sense
I find hard to befriend
As twilight appears
from the corner of my eye
Each couplet on fire,
and I look to the sky
With my very last breath
not taken in vain
It’s with meter and rhyme
—I call to heaven again
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
‘From The Book Of Prayers’
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