HOLDING OUT HIS HAND

"Come," he said, holding out his hand,

Knowing well I could see the fire on his palm

And, more, the flames that lit his eyes.

He said it only once,

Knowing well it was enough

And I would hear the pawing of the bull

That dwelt so clearly just beyond, just within

The folded red and yellow where he stood...

                                                 ...waiting for my  forward step.

                                                                                                              ...

Jo Anzalone 4-27-07

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