Sand Waiting Too Long for the Sea
by michael cahill
I contemplate writing a poem in the desert …
I admit to being ill-advised
on occasion
abrasions of various and sundry nature
appear in a figurative (Hummel) 
and literal (Remington) 
fashion
where they will (and testament) 
for the desert is hot
and liars say I’m not
ancient winds once graced these very sands
perhaps a story danced on a breeze, smiling
its truth and wisdom as whim whisked it away
to corners unknown and shadows unshown to
eyes afraid of darkness and the truth therein
but darkness protects truth and cradles it for
the brave who venture in trepidation eschewing
the old superstitions embedded in their marrow
for matters of a grey nature supersede in the thinking
creature
truth is discovered and questing begins
sharing triggers a need
to meld
well, not to be found (bucket)
sand, not to be drowned
disheveled, no shovel or desire
to bury (I’d marry, but what does she know?)
what if she were to find me here in the now
unkempt and unadorned
would charm alone behoove her interest
even though it is currently lacking
could she yet ascribe the possibility of it
were the maître d' to festoon the checkered
table cloth with the Boudreaux from
a vineyard unheard of in these parts
what if I simple removed the cork
naked
in sandals now
encountering Jesus who smiles
apparel approval
drug test passed
not he who asked
Whither thou goest in yon desert son
speech tag pause …
Well, J.C., I worry
the chick from the
Exorcist might reside in Hell
and she scares me
It’s just a movie …
See? I thought it was a total waste of time taking
four years of Latin in high school.
My insane mother was right
I perform a quadratic equation in the sand
Jesus howls with laughter
The devil appears to say
SHOW YOUR WORK
Jesus nods towards me …
The Devil howls in pain (I think)
A host of Angels appear in the sky
An army of Demons breech the horizon
on the run
The Angels alight on the ground with concert harps and begin to play
manna laced with medical grade marijuana rains from the heavens and covers
the battlefield and bolts of lightning sets it ablaze
The Lord free styles his rap unto a weary Earth, “Oh yeeeeeeaaaaaaah!”
Within hours’ love becomes the only purpose and only memory and only dream
Cher turns back time
I find a way
I contemplate writing a poem in the desert …
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