Smite the Rock
My thoughts and words and realms are in a sealed
Compartment, memory, that you must not
Trespass until a signal makes me yield.
What watchword? Yes, that moment which is fraught
With love for both of us, a moment you
Recall to me in such a way that makes
Me weak, and strong enough, to give the clue
For playing danger at the highest stakes.
The records of our yesterdays and nights
Are secrets only you and I should know,
And you alone will know the ciphered rites
To edge me back to opening that flow.
One perfect gesture will be like the strike
Of Moses’ rod. Come break the yearning dike.