HALLELUJAH

At last I must let go 
and let all this anger dissolve 
in beer and the sad 
sweet sounds of Mark Knopfler.
Above me, Deneb holds tight 
to the swan and swirls 
down the way of mist and milk 
and twining braids of Nag Champa,
rising to the deepening night sky.

I am alone on this dark prairie,
its air thick with fresh manure
and sprouting wheat and the bawls
of calves wandering the diagonals
of new pastures, the summer
Triangle, the beating heart of the 
Scorpion, feathers of light outlining the 
Eagle. Stars roll off 
your tongue, and I miss your voice,
your breath, the precision of
your lips that speak the sky,
your skin that maps the stars,
your heart whose red beat 
revolves around the tremulous
pole of my world.

Leonard Cohen sings.
And I can't say it better,
this night, this bittersweet missing,
this palpable presence 
in the stars of your animal 
rising, your spirit 
ascending, your mind
expanding, the map 
of your skin like points 
of light printed on 
the lids of my eyes.
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, hallelujah.



© 2004 by Richard W. Todd

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