River Song

riverI hold a piece of calm
here by the shore
to skim along his prose like smooth stone.
. . . He says he waits for me in his world . . .
He tugs and pulls me in with murky tongue
. . . his hunger and craving not yet completed . . .
as I slip and slide and fall between warm waves
that lap the river’s edge
near noon today.

I smile and he laughs
. . . and asks me to immerse him in my longings . . .
and I wonder if his gentle words are just a lure
to suck me in deeper than I am
and drown me in my own bottomless want.
I read each line
. . . and follow him to the place of his dreams . . .
and they spin me round in currents and turn my head
in whirlpools to black algae numb.

My dreams—I cannot care I cannot hope.
The truth I know. These words, though sent to me,
were meant for another not mine to keep
to show how deep his love for her flows.
And as his last . . . dance with me . . . fades
to a whisper floating away,
I hold my breath he holds my heart
here by the shore
I feel alone.

Copyright © 2002 Patricia Petro • All rights reserved.