Third Day of February

The river holds its peace

Its sandbags and skeletons

To pull them from the deep

Enmeshes with the benchmarks of our lives

It tries to know about that

We say what we will

The net vibrates and we catch it still

You take me as you are

Like a stone, rising

I don’t want to talk about “Hey, sweet cheeks

Catch you if I can”

Sieves to a pond

The riddle of our trust and romance is long

It’s a runaway

It’s a vague simulation

It’s the space where your hand’s been

Fixed to a pulse

A facsimile of wants of a tongue

In song