A poem by Timothy Rodriguez

Come, Cephas,

Cover my eyes,

Tie a cloth and spin me,

Notice I said, Me;

Not the lie about

A roll-away rock.

Wind me twice,

No, thrice.

The peerless divisible,

Not only for denials

But for prepackaged gods

And savaged people.

So make it three,

That many turns

Should shake

The shaky belief

In the ground under me.

Then comes the call

To freeze and I grope

In a special dark

Fumble for a touch,

Sway this way, swing that,

A madness meant simply

To lay hands on someone

Whose eyes are as open

As mine and who’s as blind.

Timothy L Rodriguez was a journalist when newspapers counted, he is a poet when poetry doesn’t count for much, and he is a novelist when the fate of fiction is uncertain. He has published in English and Spanish. His novel—Guess Who Holds Thee?—is available on Amazon. His fiction and poetry has appeared in dozens of national and international journals.His most recent novel——has been serialized in the UK at http://www.newlondwriters.com.