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Lines for Gerri

Lionel Kearns
From:   A Few Words Will Do. Vancouver: TalonBooks, 2007.


These lines jump from the tips of my stiff fingers
to explore the circled universe of memory.
They follow the outlines of distant mountains,
the edges of leaves in the sunlight, the jagged
fractures of crystalline thought. They snap
to the vague silhouette of the horizon
as it recedes from your grasp. They follow
the troubled routes of angels who dispense
wispy messages of hope to the afflicted, appearing
in the evening sky as luminous vapour trails
dispersing gradually like clouds of spent desire.
At daybreak these nebulous lines gather again
to illuminate the edge of a coastline that grows
longer as you measure it. They are the weft
of history flying through the warp of time
as every living thing renews itself
in the next generation. These threads
are straws in the biblical mortar, grass
in the swallows' nest under the eaves, mossy
paths that lead from here to then, thin
precarious wires strung through the forest
between now and there.

And when this circuitry is complete,
when each point on the grid is joined
to its corresponding opposite number,
when the last ones and zeroes have fallen into place,
and the unobtrusive hum of background radiation
moves into prominence as a slow symphony
of cosmic bliss, these tangles of intent
will resolve quietly into simple links
of love. And on that designated night
when the north wind moans, and a gnarled
cedar branch rubs against the thin pane
of your bedroom window, these lines will merge
with the intricate map of your moist palm.




Lionel Kearns's works copyright © to the author.


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