Reading
another penman’s
eyes,
seeing
what skirmishes
his soul
fought
with fire and flood,
brings a pause,
one sacrament of lifting,
that engenders a transfusion to finger obedience
from the deceptive coo
of counterfeit nods
and disingenuous hugs,
which are never ignited
by coals
that boil the marrow
or lay eggs
in the nest
of one’s brain cells.