Today's poem is by Cecily Parks
Vessel
Little canoe, you
predict ripples, rapids, and pockets
of still water. The river bendsfor youalong swallow-
perforated sandstone, past the cow skull flush
with lupine. Trembling,the lens of your shadow
steals along the river bottom, through barbed garlands
of wire, over the ghost-quicktrout knifing up
from the darkness as if they would kiss your belly
were they not afraid.Erosion surrounds us
homesteads slump in the sagebrush, a rusted-out Studebaker
has come to the riverto drink, and you are,
against so many ticking cottonwoods
the only perfect shadeof green. Sleekest
waterborne creatureno matter
how many timesthe river doubles
back on itself, balks at the salt of the sea
little canoe, my bodyis a hand
in your swaying handyou hold me like someone
who knows know this will end.
Copyright © 2005 Cecily Parks All rights reserved
from Five Points
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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