Die Quelle

Black and verbose
a place to flip pages

beside a river in a park
you weren’t complete exactly

but able to travel when you couldn’t
go elsewhere. You had a kind

fidelity to this place, like a stick or bottle
kept, holding a particular occasion

in its hollow. In your hand
a scene un-drawn, innocent

to which return was difficult if not
impossible. You’re secretive, but

secrete songs as you run gentle
fingers across the pictures and words

edging up on pages
and covers — as close as —

Printed from Cerise Press: http://www.cerisepress.com

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