POET OF THE WEEK
Ander Lyon
Week of January 8
My limbs wrap around his
shoulders as broad as my wing span –
our hands clasped tight to each other.
We watch our history
in the river, he walks steady.
Certain there is nothing
other than water in the darkness
we wade through: endless
birds singing patience over our trespass.
My limbs wrap around his
shoulders as broad as my wing span –
our hands clasped tight to each other.
We watch our history
in the river, he walks steady.
Certain there is nothing
other than water in the darkness
we wade through: endless
birds singing patience over our trespass.