Oh – I am listening to a memory and long shadow cast-wide nets.
I hear my collective history, my rhythmed slide-shoe beat and
Back to me, appear – and be tangible, be where I left you,
be light for tonight’s quiet and slip me, rub me;
the guided touch of your fingertips. Oh –
I can touch your trail, your deep, fathoms in shimmered,
thousand miles of current. Oh –
I hear and smell your scent. I feel your hunger for survival.
I see you coming home. Oh.
2011 Barry Comer