Notes About The Poem
(Thank you Laura Demelza Bosma & Katrina Stewart)
The Endge
The E(n)dge
I leave damp mudprints
there where I met the shore.
The dragonflies' dances,
the goslings scrammed,
and I for now (or 'lo, for once)
exhaled. Edges do that.
A turtle somewhere spied me
not spying a frog; quick to leap.
And splash! My eyes follow my ears.
A biped clown, here at a threshold.
A stronghold of thrushes.
And red-winged blackbirds...
briefly visiting tufts and reeds.
When I go I think it likely
no memory of me will remain
no indication, no story, no song.
But where my callous kissed
the muck.
Invert puddlings, concentric whorls.
A fish somewhere, like I,
determined to visit an edge.
Marks with its 'foot'prints,
lips breaking the tension,
A visit to the start of Sky...
now gone.
We each leave our prints.
We leave each other's
memories,
in time.
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