Softly, The moon blues, Substanceless as any dead day. Like the loyal marsh at Baybridge who jingled 5 And who I liked In the high August frosts and mists. It was like a large drunken friend waiting For me to find the misplaced knees and socketless stray arms And admire them. And wait. 10 The ground there was soft As broken-in shoes. I used to Bank off those marshmallow shores, My father's shallow boat clipping neatly under me 15 Under a cool noon. I would like to have my stomach launched into Me like that again. The grey-green water lies all around me. Two catfish leap 20 But do not dazzle. They hover in the timorous mid-air. Their fins half blue from shadows. A fine detail of foam follows like a sketch Their fast bodies 25 The shapes of moonhills. The white commas of their undersides pause silently Before me. I love to watch them in their Paradox. They are helpless In their joy. 30 From behind one reed thin as a needle A blue fly's head pokes. Curious with eyes It is amazed at these otherworld avians As wet and smooth as washed stones. 35 I landed home empty-handed.
From the collection "Youth Youth Youth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.