The Sun God’s Sentinal

A steel hydrant on our street
(the Sun-God’s sentinel)
its domed yellow cap
topped with a wrench-ready fitting
its three short blue arms wrench-ready too
its stumpy red  torso squat in the snow
ringed round its base with brown March mush
in late winter when our longing for sun
is most poignant; when it hallucinates
buds and birds
when it wants to crank the earth
a little further along in its revolution
at least a month-worth more  into its arc
to sooner reach that sweet relationship with Ra

—it’s then I ask Ra to ask you to love me
as I love you until hell freezes over or
until Ra’s firemen hook-up the waters of love
to douse the devil’s rival flame

or till I wise up,
whichever comes last


Jim Culleny;  March 2009



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