Knockin'

For days I've been hearin'

what I can only describe

as a fist from eternity against

my roof, my doors, the sides

of my house, my truck.  Distinct

is the sound of those knuckles.

I fear, like a doctor hammering

my bare chest with two fingers

to see if something's wrong,

my heart will be opened

and those fingers from that fist 

will drum a song waiting to see if

I know how to dance,

not waiting too long, finding out

if I'm a dancin' fool

or just an ordinary kind.

-Byron Hoot

http://hootnhowlpoetry.com/