Reflection On Water  /2.

 

 

The price we pay to water for its being

two thirds of us is, in thrust, saturation.

 

The colors of the blood, each separately,

mirror the curtains from rage to delight.

 

Saliva, stickier than a toad's (which is the

tongue) bleeds on into the conversation of

what we are passing through.

 

Oils, enough to dot the ground for one

winter and then dry out

toward the Earth's center.

 

The protean of one mountain or one

estuary seeking resolution.

The episode of the search for the body

of a friend lost at sea, a sunset,

a pearl, an opal: all aflame ---- .

 

To rise upon a triangle of satin,

Stretch across the web it casts

at noon tomorrow and fall,

in pieces, out of that rainbow of reason

there on the surface,

reflecting sky.

(Photo by Kristin Hiler)

 

2.