again today
appearing as soft and soaked
as the river’s edge
when the torrent
dropped
a line is waving parallel
but the water’s long gone
someplace downstream
there’d be sugar
on her lips
if not for half moon bites
of a bland sandwich
scanning across
the swell
she waits for a juicy bit
but she never quite
cuts through
the fat
it’s just that tender rub
that place
slightly beyond
her clear line of sight
it’s over a decade
behind
a never-reaching step
and the piece she missed
because the water
made her
feet numb
Hmm.. Interesting.
ReplyDeleteA lot of the poetry I've seen on blogspot tends towards square meaning, unambiguous imagery... And that fine, it can be done quite well... But I especially like poems like this one where, instead of have one point of meaning painted on a curtain in front of an open window, you have a clear pool on the top of which there are concentric ripples of meaning formed by each word.