A Visitation Poem by nicky kelly

The scorpion on my face
just on the midst of pink and pale
a bit out of proportion to East and West, yon and hither,
before the two doors
of Day and Night, sat and admired, the hitchhiker,

' Have some venom' – invited. ' No, thanks.
I’ll draw some out of mine '.
Touchin’ on my skin elated - ' Magnificat '
- exclaimed. Though blest
my distance I kept.

The extreme and frozen tip of my iceberg
Was conquered by the little adventurous battleship,
armour than reason older,
unflinching consciousness of the command of the technique
never dozes, while Homer some time snores.

After the archaic silence
made itself words like - ' Welcome back
where aren’t roses and beds ' –
there was a peephole in the heavy cloak
and I raising my aculeus to toast my thinking future

and my continuum that, in spite of the ages,
had arrived some hours early.
We had to hurry back. Both bad-tempered.
Sure he thought - ' Can’t get
this text ' –. ' Neither can I ' – I winked him at.