Hastening Home

In the charred and curved motion of the morning
let me hasten home to justify my flammable self.

Let me hasten to the home where God smiles with verification
and justice for the small things that collect in the corners
of the heart waiting to burst into flame
only to be shaped and moved to the middle
of this constant longing.

These volumes of words and contracts with the mind
are bound together in themes of color like dreams
and other lives unlived
or unloved.

I want the urgent love
that has me watching the clock
until the minutes drag me to the finish line
and I anticipate the exact fluttering breath
just before turning the key in the lock

and calling out your holiest name
in welcome and surprise.