Body of Water

BODY OF WATER

Standing by a body of water.
Moving or standing still.
In the dark green depths my soul finds its own level

Lost in a mirror of infinite margins. Ever sounding.
On and on. Perpetual arms pull me under light’s silver sheets.
Tossed with wind and waves. Where a coiled muscle gives up
a perfect word. I come with only a fever to offer far
from the dried carnations in summer's throat and certain birds
that pierce the air with an agonizing cry.
I come to wash and be clean. To drown in my immensity


Baptized by a spray of distant sky. In sympathetic response.
The surface repeats the hypnotic patterns of my longing.
Again and again. Swimming out to the breaking pages before me.
With only a parched fountain to offer.
Far from the sun's entrenched lullaby of insect music
and the worried sleep that parts with a film of sweat and dust.
I come be carried away through the charitable doors that open
on the shore

Standing by a body of water. Moving or standing still.
In the dark green depths
my soul finds its own level



Janet Hamill