TO REPAY THE WATCHMAN
To repay the watchman is a daily task.
He sits by the latch gate, just staring
in. I do not know his name, nor have
ever really spoken to him. His caliber
is like a gun, and I am afraid of guns.
-
They go both ways, those guns do.
One fires out, or one fires in. The
choice needs always to be made.
I'd - at this point - more fear
the firing in than the firing out.
-
It's too late for uncivil words, so I
merely let the watchman sit. He can
do what he wants - and even if I said
no, he'd probably do it anyway.
-
Right now, I sense the thin light of
morning changing in. The long sky
so slowly lightens. There's something
out there once again : Is it him?
Is it him?
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