In the Ear of Our Lord
       

I thought you said you love
the coal train's horn
                      the loneliest monk
playing piano     Such distinct
sounds     I had to wonder how
you knew to love them

In the beginning was the whir
I thought you said & the whir
was good

Didn't you say     each verse
should end on a pyramid
                                          Now
the crowds are coming home
Cross our eyes & dot our lines
I could swear you said the time
was wow
                the time handsome

Hark that horn     the monk's
lonely fingers     Doesn't it just
break your harp
                          None of us
will be re-embered

Free alas     you said     free alas

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Copyright © 2012 Brendan Constantine All rights reserved
from Beloit Poetry Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission