Islands of ice riven by collisions
and heat. A sliver of silvery rope
between willow and pine. Music
of rocks and trees and rotting logs.
At night, a glint of moon wavering
between shores. When rain slants
down to scar dark waters, scents
of reed and mud mingle on the wind.
River whispers and wraps herself
around the body of dreams.
You toss in your bed to wildly
shifting flesh. An old friend returns
from the dead, high school young,
unmarked by sagging eyes and scars.
Together you pick your way through
mist. Long before cars growl across
bridges, ripples or sunbeams or
shadows of cloud dance on the river’s skin.
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