Dwight Stevers: Poetry

	Poetry
	Dwight Stevers

Hieroglyphs
I hold you as a doorway holds space. Civilizations pass between our eyes like iron filings dancing in an electro-magnetic field. You, the quasar. Me, the black hole. We have no history. Only bodies separate us – shrouds, autumn leaves. Death waits around the corner. I run around the block and there you are again, the seed. Come sit beside me silent one and tell me the story of the spiral. Show me the skin of a snake, the abandoned cocoon. I've seen them in your eyes, the setting sun, in hieroglyphs scrawled in the sand. It's a story without words, a heartbeat that never dies.

Hieroglyphs

I hold you
as a doorway holds space.
Civilizations pass between our eyes
like iron filings
dancing in an electro-magnetic field.
You, the quasar.
Me, the black hole.
We have no history.
Only bodies separate us –
shrouds, autumn leaves.
Death waits around the corner.
I run around the block
and there you are again,
the seed.
Come sit beside me
silent one
and tell me the story of the spiral.
Show me the skin of a snake,
the abandoned cocoon.
I've seen them in your eyes,
the setting sun,
in hieroglyphs scrawled in the sand.
It's a story without words,
a heartbeat that never dies.

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