Water’s Body

a river of bile
has flowed for years,
surging downwards
for decades before my birth.

coursing through pilots,
miners and engineers,
mechanics and musicians,
and lapping against burned,
empty homes,
or reclaimed council houses,
now devoid of any recessed face.

there is a river in me:
the collected forces
of broken becks and upset creeks
landing silently and awful
on the shores of my stony chest.

several glacial cancers
breathlessly drift
against membranous cliff faces,
leaving shining shards
of dried black glue on a tearful landscape,
and ageless eroded testament
to these fragile trees.

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2 comments

  1. Beautifully written piece, Robert. Some admirably delicate sonics you’ve got going on there.

    Like

    1. Thank you so much, John. I really appreciate your comment! Perhaps more will be posted soon…

      Liked by 1 person

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