The visitor comes

I fear not your sting, though everlasting life holds no interest
Whether you are an end or the door to a new beginning
I will fish the same waters
sift my toes through the same sand
and build the same bridges 

You will cross my threshold just the same
whether or not I sweep the snow from the sidewalk
whether or not I beckon you to enter
whether or not I cross myself a certain way
These things are of no concern to you

I shall therefore sing off-key in public places
shelve my books in no particular order
have myself inked with lustrous bright colours
and grasp my teacup with the wrong hand at fancy functions

Whether you announce yourself brazenly
or approach on cat’s feet in dusk’s refracted light
I will echo Rilke, greeting you as a friend
and host you with the finest libations
at my well-worn kitchen table