Come on and ring my bell, and ring my bell
again, the way you did, always, never mind
what time of night. I know every costume
of the flesh you wore, the muscled swimmer
who would sweep me up, the shrunk old man
shaking in wrinkled skin. I know you steady,
mountain-solid, also cloud-transparent; both
throb of double bass and pennywhistle riff;
bonfire and blown ash. Often now you hum
into my hair, breathe warm upon me when
I least expect. Never mind the bell, come in
and in. Between us there can never be a door.