Tonight I heard God in the chords of the acoustic
He hummed a low melody
A barely distinct churn of a ceiling fan
Blending out pinks and white noise spoken
Intermittently nearby.
He said, I’m here.
He told me, just listen.
In the strumming of the guitar he
Clothed our naked hearts veiled under fig leaves
Balmy lakes like suede comforters and warm hands
Sweet, but still mild Werther’s toffees,
Butterscotch flavor clinking
Savored to the backs of my teeth and tongue

I saw him in the fractures of the broken glass
The climbing strokes of his pencil
Sketching infinitesimal splinters on transparent canvas
Sun leaking on his page
Flinging reflections to brown and sometimes hazel eyes
Depending on the season.
There was portrait in the fissures I couldn’t see and
In the shards one I could see with not yet hazel eyes.

A single band playing all I’ve wanted to hear.
Close your eyes, he said.
Bow your head, just listen.
Smooth calloused fingertips stirring back and forth
To and fro
To and fro
To and fro
Effortlessly to waiting ears like labyrinths.
This could be forever and I would answer yes.
Dark hair shading forehead and eyebrows
A reconciled smile and quiet eyes.