The river rushes between steep banks
Of pebble and mud, without a word of thanks
to the hips of the bridge that spans its width,
A single step over the joist, and she is over the water’s flanks.
The joists are solid under the flooring beneath her feet,
Though the wooden struts strain and moan in windy sleet,
what’s behind grows dim in the veil of ice
each step only forward, toward the voice of a future she’s yet to meet.
the touch of a stranger
for the compliment
Let chocolate and whiskey eyes
be reflected in mirrored
grey eyes, shallow
and changeable as a sandbar.
While tidal and endless,
you meet the Other at every turnstile;
travelling the same paths
or utterly different ones.
who is of the same cloth,
hiking off into the wild
that you have walked already —
known to you,
[Note: I hadn’t really intended to write this; in fact the plan was to write about making 6-sided paper snowflakes. Maybe I’ll get the snowflakes out in a day or two.]
I bought a large print of the photo below for Mom (something like 21 x 31 inches) and had it framed at Christmas. She liked it so well that she decided right away where to hang it, though it’s still not been hung. (I think she wants to paint that wall first. Maybe.) To be fair, it is sitting on the dresser below the target hanging zone where she can see it.
Then, she commissioned me to write a poem to go with the print. I finally finished the “Two Boats” poem the week before I went to Texas to visit this summer. You can find the final version of the poem below.
I promise to make another shameless plug for Patrick’s work as soon as I figure out a few more technical details. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy these two companion pieces. ~LD
Tied together in water and wood,
blood and bone,
this traveling party of warriors,
poets, water gypsies
and still in the surly sunset.
The skins once stretched
smooth around her bones
today reveal the lie
of the great grey slab
slung so calm and cool
across the circumference
of the glazed horizon.