The Ecchoing Putting Green - Dedicated to Kathy Halfknight

 

God is in his cubbyhole 

a place usually concealed

the slatted chubb-lock doors

are today flung wide open

 

like God’s man spread

as he sits performing one-person show

a couple stand before him for all eternity

I too am invited to partake in a round

 

this much I gather from the array 

of score cards, balls and anti-bac spray

with cast-off selection of diecast putters 

leaning invitingly against catering table

 

putting green shimmers with holy portent

eighteen solar systems waiting

each undulating around dead suns

sucking down soft dimpled moons with

 

down the drain, death-rattle endings

pastel draped couple stand ready

moon scythes in hand before God

discussing something beyond perception

 

 

 

 

In this vacuum of Summer

I feel my chest fill

with boundless hope fed by times

spent inside finite models of the cosmos

 

didn’t ever want to fall off the edge

of the putting green

but knew I would find it waiting

even before I arrived at the pedestrian crossing

 

from the prom to Marine Gardens

anticipated convex pimples beneath blind feet

a spot where for the last time we stood together

you had turned back from the party

 

 

to check up on my whereabouts

and there I was stumbling

after my three-min skimming sojourn

climbing up the sticky shifting pebbles

 

you appeared to me as a lollipop-lady Ololon

and now I’m strolling along the prom

maintaining a two-meter distance

we are all strolling along the prom