THE VESSEL CALLS FOR THE WINE

"OK!" I shout
"I am ready for truth."
I am composed for silence.
I am prepared to be taken.
I spread my legs
and uncouple my defenses.
I will listen and repeat.
An angel touches my periphery. I remember hearing her
sing words;
exquisite tender rain of meaning
sharp as an Ox-eyed Daisy
leading across a field of dandelions
to an old fortress of broken stones.
If I wait, bereft of self
will you sing to me again?
permit me to tag along behind you
though I halt in meter
word and meaning?
I remember--when I think I know
where you are going--I would raise my voice
for strength, and in the resounding silence--
--in the silence of my drawn breath--
realize I have lost you again.