For the first time


for the first time with night falling
with a dead thank-you on the ground,
its feet still kicking my lips,
it hits me like hot wind from the late train.
I do have faith.
Long-abandoned under hot classroom lights,
pinned under a microscope along each meridian,
faith is the wild pulse running through my life.
Faith is Horus back to life with the sun
forged to his forehead
Faith is deathless Bast, going on in every leg-caress,
in each night yowling.
Faith is walking out of my perfect life for the unrevealed
choice behind black curtain number three.
Faith is pouring myself into a loving I know cannot last
because it is too pulled in the taffyworks of fear, need
and history.
Faith is lying in the hammock, and all that waiting.

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