River licks and skirts the final sandbars,
Becomes one with the conforming deluge
Bigger than anyone’s idea of God.
Log boom squares splashed with creosote revolve
While tugs scout infinity. Destinations.
Patchwork nimbus break, reform. Nut, in her sky
Of presents, elopes with the Man, and I,
A constant crack, sew the sandy margins
With crosspaced gumboots. Beyond and be gone.
Memory’s almost done, but these photos
I found yesterday in the creaky chest ….
Child’s face, flushed, garlanded with friends. May be me.
All our clothes the same: breeches, tan loafers,
Suspenders, white shirts. The smiles haunt me.
Who could be that happy? For what reason?
A school or church, perhaps a family.
The photos taunt me with silly questions
And I’m too tired to follow them at all.
Superfluous sluicing of mini-whirlpools
Congregate two feet away, the difference
Between diving liquid ropes here and
Oceanfloor volume sixty miles of nothing.
My palsied finger is a lithe minnow.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment