The Moment After

 

The Moment After

Numb from the crawl space, 
from cobwebs and cramps, 
from weight of wrenches, suck of mud, 
from cruel finger-scrape of crusty pipe
I open the gas-cock, dimly aware of
a hoo-oo-ooting sound as wearily, stupidly
to relight the pilot I strike a match and 
WHOOSH 
a comet of fire slams me to a wall. 

Fast the body moves 
before the mind reacts. 
Scrambling on hand and knee 
for an endless instant— 
I shut the cock.

The moment after in stillness, 
    my right arm is smoking.
The moment after from my sizzled beard, 
    the scent of singed hair.
The moment after from my lip, 
    the taste of ash.

And like a wild river
    blood throbs through my heart.
With a rush of air
    lungs expand.

Before pain can muster
(and muster it shall), 
in the moment after 
I have senses, spirit. 
The soul burns, my love, 
blessed to the quick
with life.

…..

First published in Verse-Virtual, thanks to James Lewis, editor

Note: I wrote this poem after a terrible horrible no-good day when yes, I nearly blew up a client’s house (and myself). How lucky, how wonderful to be alive.