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My heart was forged in an ancient fire
Before Hellenic tragic-comic gesture
birthed language from
Layered lisping limpid
Geometry.
Before even tongue-and -tooth
Tethered etymology, so rich, yet bathed in the
Rancid fat of time’s rhyme and reason.
Before you came riding even
With raucous romantic ravenous
Hooves hefting heavenly rain into the
Deep dry cleft of my night.
...Before any of that rumpus,
Sponsored by an illegitimate
God in a drifting dystopian
universe.
In a time when anger was so visceral
That to remember is to be
birthed and cleansed, wet in its flame.
During the time of guiltless
Undanced moving that was
All dance because it
Had no name.
During the children-still-free time, and us,
Still free to watch and gather
Their disarmed intelligence
From eloquent,
easy, enigmatic games.
The implacable inside smile
Of that exchange.
The place where power and humility collide,
And teachers tumble like tesserae,
Towards an as yet unmade mosaic ...
Like currency before coins ...
In such a place my heart was forged.
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