The Cardinal
is a hint of
how heaven comes,
or death.
He does not flutter in,
a slow motion float.
Rather
not here –
then-
here-
in a sudden seconds
bold shimmer of a red now.
I wish I might catch his arrival,
but,
consentrating,
I miss it.
Just,
there he is,
(like death)
between
this heart beat
and the next,
which never comes.
Poems by Ken 