Tabernacle

The altar of my imagination 

is empty of offerings

and so the clock of poetry

winds down

it’s mechanism whirring

to stillness

with a final click

in the hush

I look both ways

as if crossing the street

but really I am looking for you

and hoping that you 

do not forget

the church of our collaboration 

filled with the gifts

of the gods

I’m not precious 

about how I get inspired 

I’ll wring it out of the cloth

dirty from cleaning or

pick through the 

discarded trash 

behind the dumpster

in the parking lot

I’ll take it from strangers 

on the street 

but it will not be the same

as having it couriered

to the doorstep of my

temple of ideas 

by winged messenger.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tabernacle#/media/File:The_works_of_Josephus_(1683)_(14781191601).jpg