Calvin Becker
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bridge coat


watching
grey-blue nightingales
murmuring on distant banks
far from the stern
pallid eye
of hissing flood plains
 
I whispered words the wind wisped away
 
triclinic stones
glimmering off the keel
languishing
in the helix
embroidery
of dream pools
and mute canopies
of motion
 
I whispered words the wind wisped away
 
mesmeric
reflections
of wasted charts
and youth
and healing
and buttons
 
what takes the place
of all the beliefs we’ve lost?
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