safe

safe
by Timothy Reed




t'was nigh unto sundown

when I passed your lane

indigo and crimson

warring for celestial dominance

in cloudy battlegrounds

and I saw your white-picket house,

like a movie-screen

alive with the glory above

smirking, smiling

the windows shuttered

the doors thrice-barred

the very model of security

and all round the yard, the baby's breath

whispered

"safe, safe"

it was only then that I

happened to notice a small

pocket of shadow by your stoop

a pocket no larger than a forgotten memory

and indeed it was

or it had been 

(and sunset suggested "will be again")

and there, dressed to the nines

stood a man with fair form

soft features and kind eyes

who, all the while

was breathing words

"charity, comfort"

but whose feet

lived in puddles of

bones

blood

carnage

blackest death

and I marveled at this

essential dissonance

and I wondered what
violence
debauchery
or hatred
that man must 
espouse - evangelize

and so I craned my neck
turned my ear
to hear what he muttered
beside your doorstep


"did he really say?"

"will he keep his word?" 

"am I his keeper?"

"does it make sense?"

and there he 
waited, watched
never loud, never loud
until sun died

and you
unlatched, unfastened
undid, unbarred
lifting locks, latches 
and bade him enter
and dine
dine
dine

and all round the yard, the baby's breath

whispered

"safe, safe"