A poem summons me
to converse
with her
she seeks me out
from I don’t know where
maybe India’s Ganges,
Montana Rockies
Gram’s kitchen
on Washington Street

Words open my eyes
I see myself
as bits of char
taken down
most holy river
marigolds float
in wild current

Verbs climb me up
to jagged top
of highest mountain
below my childhood
ripples like a stream fed
from snowy peak

Her voice is true night song
of my speechless soul
I listen to infinite universe
through Gram’s kitchen window
stars chant softly
in cloudless winter sky

I am cremated dust
sandaled verses
become my climbing feet
timidly I begin to sing
with these wheeling suns
and then suddenly I feel
myself broken loose
into an abyss
waiting for another
verse of my life to appear