Skirr

The boy wants to know
what is under
the river. In his mind

the bright lights of China
stipple the points of rock
as princes dance

to the loose strings
of the water's lulling.
Quartz becomes

diamond and diamond
becomes a boat. Calling
him to sail

to the other side
of the world. To sing
until sunset

with the canoe-pods
drooping as jangling prisms
on the honey
locust. When, bent

low a withered pod,
will split, and he will hum
himself

into the fiddled
shadow of a grasshopper,
gliding off

toward the silken-colors
so longed
for. Weaving between

the lungs of dream
and sleepless
morning. If all rivers empty

into the sea, he is sure
to catch the eastern
light by daybreak. Reclaiming

the other half of
his heart, so

stilled across
the rippled mirror
of the river.

Author's Note

2015