Just as the goodness gets caught in the closure
The doves are driven from the sky
Blackness bores down on the heated stems
of the dandelions
the lions leap once before they die

I thought of you on that river
Your faded flannel shirt tied to your waist
A broken oar in your left hand
As you paddled lopsided to the dock

I knelt down to meet you
brushed the salt stains from your face
caught the smell of ****** on blistered lips
inhaled the kiss off you –
then let it go

will you be there when the waters meet
when the last sparrow circles west
and all the skulls of all the kings
have bullet-holes as they’re laid to rest

You knew the season, the changing wind
The way the storm clouds hovered low,
You sensed the ending, the deluge coming
the river unrelenting,
swirling round your small wooden boat,
your ******-clear eyes

and broken oar.