Throw me a line

As bright as it might seem

from the pale blue light

casts away from the candle

as bright as the sun within

from the tenets of the dawn

torn as cattle under fainted guns

undecided about the gloves to wear

as protection sways in thin shades

and the battleground is served

for the major play unset.

Throw me a line.

Just a line

as modest as it might seem

for graveyards halt in no hope

if they write hope for my body.

I need a clear line

canvassing for fertile ground

as vivid as the tone of seeds ranging

from your hands.

As long as you throw me a line

punching against fearless priests

I will breathe from within

and flood the highest candle that feeds

the dazzling, ill-free, gifted sky

under our feet.

Because

the line that you threw me

jostled the sky from our hands.