Cockatrice by Leonard M HawkesIt was etched in the granitic
Fiber of my five-year-old brain;
Vividly I see it still:
The low sloped ceiling,
Light green paint,
The metal posted bench,
Open lockers,
White towels, and
Naked grapplers:
The well-formed muscles
Of arms, legs and torso;
Thick dark hair,
And masculinity
As He turned
To greet the coach.
I new not, not to look,
And I wanted so to linger,
Absorbing the new-found sight.
But urgently the hand tugged,
And hustling across the tile
This new light was blotted out.
Ah, but I had seen
The Cockatrice's eye--
Or it had seen mine,
Reflected in its potent
Firey brightness--
The eye of cock and bull:
Legendary power,
Potency and charm,
Truth beyond birth,
Whiteness glowing
Invincably with an
Intuitive transcendence.
And yes, the Eye beckons still,
As illusively across the decades
As its impassioned search. 02/27/2004
Author's Note: From out of the cobwebs of innocence
Posted on 02/28/2004 Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes
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