It was
cool and dark,
azalea in bloom
at the edge
of the forest.
The raw silk of it
peeking out
from its
The raw silk of it
peeking out
from its
heavily ironed
dress shirt.
dress shirt.
Still more surface
area than flowing
water, it was
area than flowing
water, it was
hard to live by glacial
repose alone.
repose alone.
The visible saints
drifting again
drifting again
into imitation,
into the world’s late
into the world’s late
afternoon.
We buried ourselves
at her bequest.
at her bequest.
Read on . . .
“Water,” a poem by Ladan Osman