Enthroned

I like to say 

that I’m not in the habit 

of letting the heart-song flower for any 

but the dearest ones 

it may be another of my splintered truths

that I’ve cracked on the table

like a roll of coins 

to break the seal of what is possible 

and let the metal discs 

spill outward from the opening 

because I’ve never been fearful

of letting the mind 

follow the heart 

I let the pair of them 

sit on their thrones

on the dais of their dominion 

over the obedient flesh 

with all the pomp of their jewels

and robes of rulership 

speaking to me with clear voices

saying “Go” and “Wait” 

like the ringing of bells 

or the baying of hounds

it is just after 1pm

and the center of me is singing

along to a melody that 

part of me can hear 

although the music of it is far off

past where the trees 

stand in their regiments 

and the water runs in rivulets.