GATELESS

THE GATES OPENED

a small boy stood by the urban creek

grove of eucalyptus

mint harbingers wafting gently

over burnished straw

for this

speaking in tongues

there were boundless tweets without recall

of the caterpillar

its black and bright green pelt

a snack

of those long forgotten afternoons now graduated

to far beyond crawling

wearing a campaign hat

dodging insults from high pulpits

shivering 'neath the willow tree

where once slaves had swung

with bulging eyes

by still waters while gathering sticks

cruel sticks that gouged the winter sky

finding no cloud for anchor

the myth growing goose bumps

some days are good for nothing

the sun warms everything

leaves, skin, vines softly over silent water

sparkling

and the silence of insects that click and hum

let them have their say

listen

hear the root of suffering

see the mirage

'tis a pity and with cold clarity

must go

the small crowd gathered

women wearing stray blouses

men with hammers and credit cards

children chewing gum

one looked the other way

though no one had called a conference

the election must be held

anyway

officiated by the Judge, once a town Hero

yes, 'tis a pity He agreed

but the quality of mercy is not strained

this pitiable being without substance

we will keep

for otherwise life would not exist

foolish isn't it?

everything moving ever so slightly

altogether all at once

everywhere right under foot

by the creek that disappeared

in plain sight

going nowhere

for nothing