Friday Night Lights Project: Week #45

It’s that time of week again, and though the weather here is bleary-eyed, my eyes remain filled with light. My Friday night was the bliss of Radiohead… for anyone who was there, I know your eyes will also be sparkling. The eyes of my good friends Cindy Keong and Ashley Martin are also light-filled, bringing you celebratory images of candles and the wings of skype. Fly into it…

**********

Being sung: the Psalms.
There is a boy soloist,
like David.

Not like David, his mother
sits in the third row.
I see her shoulders

rise, drop. The chorus keeps on
naming names of God
maker of heaven and earth

two thirds covered with water.
I think of boiling
points, superheated matter,

the mystery of no bubbles bursting.
They sing in Hebrew
lord; lord and master

maker of heaven and earth
and, presumably the factory worker
who made the flutter sleeve blouse

two thirds flesh colored chiffon
ripples of which pass over
her shoulders as everyone bends

a knee. I know who makes me:
not this Adonai
Adonai choraled about

but you, subject to time zones,
long distance Tetragrammaton
to whom prayers ascend

on the wings of Skype,
I wait more than the watchman waits for morning
to twirl in the camera in my new dress.

AM

**********

CK

**********

I will be the whistling
boy who walks the empty
hour of shore where the sea
runs backwards like mercury:

windows cut in skyline
by a circling eagle:
somewhere the roar of
a thunderhead or a fishing
boat that drops its net
into the blinding noon.

I must choose on this
backwards shore
and though it is hard
to see through the spectre
of spume the red welts
on my chest tell me:

I unbuttoned my shirt
and swam out
into the net.

GN