That Granite Needle--By G. Louis Heath--United States

That Granite Needle

The tall obelisk in the cemetery across

from my third-floor office submits to the will

of the sun this blue morning. I have thrilled

to the sun ascendant over my computer for

years, an unavoidable meditation on a cemetery.

It is a granite needle that pricks my gray folds

each morning I work. It’s a relative I don’t

want to see. It’s a meeting I’d like to

avoid. It’s a doctor’s appointment I dread.

It’s a sermon I don’t want to hear.

It’s that granite needle again.

My morning coffee at my desk, I am full into

my routine as the steeply inclined sun finger

paints on granite, a pastel of light downward

till the base is bright. This work of light on the

obelisk never fails to draw my eyes from my

keyboard, if only for moments. The sun paints

a message for me, maybe.

Today a weed-eater begins to buzz around the base.

I look down and resume typing e-mails to staff.

G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, teaches at Ashford University, Clinton, Iowa. He retires in June, 2016 because his university is closing. He enjoys reading his poems at open mics. He often hikes along the Mississippi River, stopping to work on a poem he pulls from his back pocket, weather permitting. His books include Mutiny Does Not Happen Lightly, Long Dark River Casino and Vandals In The Bomb Factory. His most recent poems have been published in Dead Snakes, Poppy Road Review, Writing Raw, Inkstain Press, Verse-Virtual, Eunoia Review and Squawk Back. He can be contacted at gheathorov@gmail.com