River SongThey are dredging the river,
Bringing up all the sunken things,
Stirring the lid to the river's hidden treasures:
The shit, and muck, and corpses.
The river flows swiftly between the banks,
The artificial shores of concrete and boulders
In the city where you fell.
Down stream the river widens,
The shores are gentle slopes
Tilting softly toward the edge
Where a sudden drop plunges
Earth into water the color of mud.
Trees bend over it, shading the water
Like some idealized painting, pastoral,
Pastel: ignoring the under tow,
The snags hidden by water,
The places where children drown.
They are searching for you,
The men in the boats, the wet suits,
Dragging their ropes along the river's bottom.
They search the known places
The up swells, the catch alls, the places
Where the river surrenders unwanted things.
But the river will keep you, has accepted
What you mistakenly offered,
Embraced you and filled you with itself;
It will hold you long after we forget you.
At a Field in EnnaThe ground broke open
The ground swallowed me because
I took the apple
And the pomegranate seeds
And I ate them
And into the dark I tumbled
With their sweet juices still
Trembling on my tongue
Or was it the marigolds
The begonias, hyacinths, hydrangeas
Snapdragons, peonies, lobelia, all
Tempting me, their faces
Turned toward the sun
While under the earth
Their roots stretched deep
Called out to emptiness
The darkness, black
And echoing, empty of meaning
The dark places resonate
Free from light, from sound, from memory
But filled with this taste and scent
The sweet apple, tart and sharp
The seed, a forgotten promise
The smell of flowers, overpowering