One Poem by Robert Combs

consider for a moment the key
consider the handle

I cannot tell anymore when
a door opens or when it closes
all I hear is a beckoning
from the other side

blues coming from our roots
while at night I dream
of bonfires and ghosts of men
laden with irreconcilable tombstones
names of archangels emblazoned
behind a bird of flames

it is only a short walk
to another room and
I can see the river water rising
crystal in your incomparable arms and legs
your fingertips turning from fiery spindles
into satin tendrils cloaking me
in the soft confidence of a lover's kiss

the sun behind me is like a fire
tiny flames survive in the river's ripples

I say something to God
he's listening but
I hear no answer

so I ask the river
and God answers

in the windfall of thunder and
the coruscation of lightning
I stand drenched

alone

I am Aristophanes
holding a sheaf of new layers shaking
like a weak-kneed lamb searching
for my lost half

and there you are writing
grocery lists on the bottom of your shoes
asking me to take a walk
in a cemetery with you
and your dog

we walk
God follows
we talk
God listens and
as the walled road narrows
we melt together
and become one