Kosrof Chantikian: Home of the Poet

in the afternoon of a day
when a child speaks

& her voice paints sleep
with the alphabet of laughter

I come to where you are
to the sky's house

to a place where there are no bells to ring
or doors to shut

this is where poetry lives
where eyes are as good as words

where birds never sleep
where clumps of dust ignite themselves into stars

I enter your home
& see you

when I reach your hands
I know I can stay
as long as the sun will burn

Copyright Kosrof Chantikian. This poem appeared in Ararat, Winter 2005