Kit Kelen #612 - let them come

612
let them come

leaves of my drift
pure out of the weather

inklings
breeze turned
ladders towards

let them queue for correction
the questions asked

public phrasings
and heartfelt

let them do the drift
rub up

let me not remember

conflations of
and collocations

stand up in my socks
it’s a meerkat thing
peer over into
see-them-assembled

rabble of all-my-own
just accidental as I am

dust gathers me here
I will mount a sermon

among them
witness the flight of the innocents

the miseries of elsewhere, witness
miseries exported

they itch or ache
grit teeth
pass time

let me be answerable to them alone

how much for this lovely death?
or that?

some slow to go
die lingering

mother in me
and some sprung off

then I must be with them, of
neither spoken for
nor over

and let me in their secret

I take my centuries too

o soul tell on
as out of prayer, so lost

truths skated till the winter cracks

Dickens wept over his endings, re-read
am I above that?
I’ll kill Little Nell as well

let them!

I’ll suffer all
let come to me

set to take off
or come to light
where the sunshine stands
just because I say