[That]

That this is the morning in which nothing much

that the sky is still there and the water dresses

accordingly that only at night does the water rest

vanish from sight that the stars are too small

too far to be reflected recorded there that all our

names too are writ invisibly on water that abiding

requires more hope than I can possibly acquire

that hope is not a thing with feathers that hope is

a thing with a fist a species of violence that hope

is a thin crust sketched over oceans that hope is

what despair uses for bait come in hope says

the water's fine that hope is the blood with which

you write letters that start dear sea dear ocean

stop asking so fucking much that hope is a telegram

delivered by stiff men in uniform a telegram that says

missing stop that says once again presumed lost stop

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Copyright © 2015 Leslie Harrison All rights reserved
from Cherry Tree
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission