Handprints On The Knob! Poem by Eric Cockrell

bound and cuffed,
i break through
the paper veil
surrounding your body,
and lap at your heart
with my tongue.

you broke the sparrow's wings,
yet he flies with the memory
of flight and pure desire!

you speak softly,
and the waves are stilled.
even the moon
loses it's grip!

small children draw your image
in the dirt with holy fingers,
and whisper, 'mother'!

the rats in the alley
stop in silent prayer.
broken windows mourn
for the wind!

your lips on the horn
of my being blow,
the demons dance like monkeys,
for nickels and dimes.

rain begins to fall...
even god is weeping.
and the handprints on the knob
burn history into
the moments of choice.

perhaps that is all we are,
or can be...
moments of choice,
handprints on the knob!