Come To Me As a Poem

Come To Me As A Poem The days of thunder in the cane fields gone... lightning strikes on the flat, brown flesh of earth rushing through the green breaks and out, leaving the earth chattering. Come to me as a mandrake searching wildly/ through the night air for its mate. Come to me as human lava and living sea swells, desirous swords clashing. Day and night merge in the twilight tailings of / the two and may not come exactly the same way again so defy waiting with its still, cold hands and... Come to me as a poem... Come to me as a poem with wild, moist eyes and -- open, frenzied palms filled with wild flowers and self liberated dahlias, a poem brave in the face of its own worth and passion. Come to me like the taste of the cassava of poems/ the plaintain of poems, the flowing red embers of poems. Many are the words of a poem that have no one looking for them. But, look, here I am poemas after poemas of you in my palms, a canter of every vowel and constants you have spoken to me, every word you have written. Come to me as a body of poems, fold into my arms as what/ one needs to say to others. Purple honey in your going, purple honey in the poem of your wise arriving yet again.