there are no hand holds on the wall of heaven
nothing to grasp, nothing but my own descent
and i ask
the gossamer cord, anchored like a tendon
to the muscles of my reaching, as it
slides through these hands
before they know to close
and i realize, suddenly, how motionless i am
beneath the sky
i ask if
standing still drenched in communal sweat
and the sweet smell of your saliva,
my mouth smiling your smile, remembering
the feel of it beneath me
this union, i ask if you know it too
and the chill of wind cuts through my clothing
waiting for a reply, waiting, as
density replaces being
in each repeated silence
from the spasms of no reply
i’m pushed, like a newborn,
into a world i cannot envision
past the dream of it
and i ask
beneath the single light of the lamp
dull and humming in the pre-morn
grey as pavement and twice as lifeless
i ask myself instead to fly
beyond answers
here, with nothing to grasp,
with no map to lead me back
within the wall of you
"Wall of Heaven" ©2000, 2016 Tobin Mueller
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