Sunday, August 19, 2012

Three Slaps

Three Slaps 

Three slaps of the oar 
Three slaps of canal water, 
Green and alive and dark. 

Three laps forward for the boat. 

It’s a long way to go, with 
A heavy mind 
Heavy limbs 
And eyes that smell of Soot. 

A dead twig floats by. 
A fish flashes its white belly. 
A ship’s horn, blunted 
By the fog, 
Probes through the dark. 

A crab drums a dark litany 
On a broken shell. 

A shoe surfaces, carrying 
Old footprints from a ballad. 
Slowly, the water is deserted. 

Doom sinks down, 
Releasing a school 
Of bubbles.

1 comment:

Kay said...

Moved me terribly....replete with images, not al sad, but even so, reminiscent of Haikus, beautiful usages of the vision mind's eye