He reads mercury’s writing on his wall—
tight silver letters concealing a name.
Does it mean warning? Does he see a call?
The element’s drips seem trying to fall
in order. His mind says it’s just a stain—
not mercury, not writing. An old wall,
crack-lined. What he sees are the very small
animals glowing in the dark. The same
warning as a red tide that he recalls
from his beachy youth. His running feet—mall
soft—sinking, sparking sand to life. Those tame
readings of Mercury rising. No walls
fenced his star-born desire. When lost squalls
blew from the west then left after a quick rain
warned light in darkness. He heard his first call
then, he knew. He learned the lost name, or all
he wanted to learn—coded, never plain.
He read, Mercury wrote, He built blank walls
as warnings. He’s waiting—now—for your call.
Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. His latest poetry collection, Roshi San Francisco, was published in 2020 by Norfolk Publishing. Starting from Tu Fu was recently published by Encircle Publications. A new collection, Mirror Games, was released in December 2020 from Cherry Grove.