Call and Response
It is a hinge.
It is a flash splintering
the sky,
then a rumble.
Under ripe light,
it is pollen
furring the bees.
It is a wood thrush’s
song rising
from the backyard’s
green pulpit.
Over and over
one calls, insistent.
Then another
parses, flute-like
as the head
bobs. Tail flicks.
It is the link
embedded in us.
Think of
the old gospels
which require
a beating heart,
church hands
to answer.
No matter what
form it takes
it seems impossible
to disentangle.
And still the God-weld
split, despite
my prayers
to save my son.
You were silent.
Florida Review
November 2022
Runner-up, Humboldt Poetry Prize
