We find an empty part of the river

brown at its wide mouth
far enough that the bongo drummers
and tambourine players

won’t bother to see
beneath the copper sunset
lovers bobbing with soft waves

gulping in air between mouths
full of the other

and afterward

what remains will open like moonlight
over the water like the wild
shapes of desire and distance

ships ablaze at sea
like the blur of molecules around that fire
and the jumping shadows on the water’s surface

or perhaps left over will be nothing more
than a quick coalescence of chemicals

and whatever else has loosened from us

like ghosts hungry for abandon
will wash to shore nameless
with the fractured husks and bones

of fish dead a thousand years
learning the depths of other
lonelier darknesses.


Pif Magazine | March 2013