Drift

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4th in National Poetry Month Contest (Sponsor: Crystol Woods)

Judged: April 14th, 2025

baby ghost
wrinkles the river

I gaze 
at its drowsiness
as I masticate 
on the meanings of why
because inside me is misaligned 

and its cold, sleepy eye 
- cautionless -
shall twitch
like visible white noise 
when TV boxes snap

neither shoals
nor skipping stones 
breaches the facade of a conspiratory sea

river rattles 
'cause it's my baby's ghost:
The Deer Hunter 
picked her blossom
tending his garden
of wicked passion
for crooked lotuses 
laying dead
     afloat

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