What Moved Through Me

What Moved Through Me

 

What moved through me winced invisibly.

A royal jelly flower. May we

be nudged up the trellis to become

the daily toil of a garden enclosed.

 

I am still the child I could not early be.

If innocence means rinsed by some vagrant god,

then I stay pure in earned adulthood.

Are you in tune with the sour cherries

hanging heavy in the shorter tree?

 

How might your practiced hunger cherish me?

I learn to reach the clouded-over moon.

Always the noonday sun holds still within.

My hands empty themselves. The plucked guitar

with leisure paints a not-canary hue.

 

But there is singing from the respite stars.

As though a gathering of doors.

A pond, a baptismal font to bless

myself. A road leans where the road goes.

 

I rest my eyes at midnight knowing

darkness comes. Loads its silver on my thumbs.

I watch for lights that might guide my ride

into some nether storyline.

A line of knit lace sheltering my arms.