by Janet Kenny
How to explain a single footprint, deep
in sand above the fast receding tide.
No prints approach or leave along the sweep
of beach. A leap of faith or giant stride?
A helicopter that required a shove
to rise above the earth? An angel bright
with flaming sword avenging hate with love
then leaving in a mystery of light,
all helium and hydrogen to blind
our human eyes that should not see it fly
up out of sight and therefore out of mind?
In hats and shades we fear the summer sky.
This print left by Man Friday is no more
a mystery than little crabs that run
from tiny holes that perforate the shore
then hide again escaping from the sun.
We journey with the crabs and with the star
imprisoned in a system we must trust.
Oh tell me star exactly what you are
and why we twinkle in this cosmic dust?
Who says no angel flies within the core
of that fierce furnace eye which will reclaim
our little piece of dust, a metaphor
explained by burning ghosts without a name?