Saturday, October 20, 2012


(from Slow Drowning in a Fast River)

I see her slender fingers touch
The surface of the river face
Gold reflected in brown mush
Leaved arms as fine as lace

She is the only permanent resident here
A dancer I have seen always
Hiding in her slender arms the silent deer
From drunken hunting crazed

I always thought of her as alone
A woman morning a lost lover
Or a guilt-ridden soul to atone
From a hurt she cannot recover

Crazy kids still run through sweeping arms
The way I did when I was their age
Her touch could never cause them harm
Yet somehow modifies their rage

And me returning to this water side
Feel against as I once did
Running under her arms to hide
Just as I did when I was a kid

Her kiss, my first kiss, always cherish
Her touch, my last touch, to which I perish.

Al Sullivan's webpage

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