The Sun God’s Sentinal

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

—it’s then I ask god to ask you to love me
as I love you until hell freezes over or
until divine firemen release 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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