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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