I thought that you would be like water
in summer
even if the lake lay
beyond the brambles.
On a road trip, the heat mirage oases
seem nearer
like objects in the mirror
where I first saw you.
In summer,
birds bathe in the dog dish I set out--
they fly without rising
in that finite sky.
Your dark hair seemed to flow and called me
like a siren
whose face is obscured
like her every word.
I still set out that dog dish for the winter birds
in their need.
Mornings I set it steaming
only to find it frozen by afternoon.
There are things that flow, comforting things
already changing.
I remember your reticence and kick the bowl of ice
coming free, ungiving, falling hard and only once.
_________
for What's Going On--"what cold is"
Music: Julian Lennon Ruby Tuesday
"There are things that flow, comforting things
ReplyDeletealready changing." But not this, despite knowing even if there were obstacles, even if she was farther than she seemed, even if . . . I'd say the birds had it easier, even when the water froze. I like how you weave the unattainable siren in with the birds' ease at getting their water. I love how you end with things that flow and the kick, once, final.
Not enough good words to say how awesome this poem is. Those two closing lines. Wow. Just beautiful, painfully so.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the dog dish images and can just picture the summer birds bathing and then flying without rising. You come up with the best images really! A powerhouse of a poem.
ReplyDelete