Friday, July 13, 2012

Downriver


Slick oil, diamond white sun
Glints in a halo
Encircling the warm domes of your knees,
Your shoulders,
The black skullcap of your hair;
We ride invisible currents
And doldrums, high above
The continents of the riverbed.
You haunt me, on my right hand,
Warm and smooth as sleep,
Coasting on a silver river, an aching dream,
As the trees stretch
And pass overhead
And the grass on the banks
Rustles, brushed by our feet.

(July 1989)

(Photo: A Florida dragonfly, to accompany a poem written while I lived in Florida, retrieved Wednesday from my file box.)

5 comments:

  1. What a great find in your file box!

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  2. I love the line about continents of the riverbed - sounds like a lovely, lazy, low level passionate day...

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  3. Evocative and sensual -- all of it.

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  4. Thanks, y'all. This is one of the few poems I found that I actually LIKE!

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  5. What a perfect match the poem and pic. :)

    M

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