Drowned.

DROWNED Drowned in the mirror Where reflected image stirs The features of my face Pivoted in depths of nights. Rivers in the flow Shipwrecked in sand Purposeful dark dreams Shadows chasing a song In satiated amorous hands. Taking heed in glories of earth A passing images held by wrist Dedicated firstly to passing wind And then to the gathering mist. A poem is a poem, what else could be real? It is there, all in all, and nothing more to steer.