A kind of invitation

In a more primal place

desire would in itself seduce

but I come to make combinations

of unlikely things

and move my pieces by laws

I cannot touch.

Someone has me thinking

I have been already too long

in classrooms.

I lower my tongue

with the speed of a drawbridge,

trying to get your attention

but I can’t make the sound

of towers in thin air.

It’s my turn

I’ll send this bishop

across the board to find you.

He carries a kind of invitation.

 

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I wrote this poem in 1968. It was the first poem I ever had published – an annual publication from my creative writing class.