for Liam Rector
In the crackling murk of static it makes
itself heard–not an echo but
the thing: creation’s roar caroming
through the universe, the auditory everafter
of cosmic birth.
Do you know sound
and light can be distinguished
only by a length of wave,
the interpretive tools of an eye, an ear?
The big bang is no theory – it’s as real
as it sounds, the distant past impervious
to argument and reproach,
implacable as starlight.
And the heart? It receives
metaphor like a red antenna
and tries to decipher meaning in poetry,
tea-lights burning in fancy shoes,
a sad guitar.
Photo by Doug Wheller