silver

I hope all is well as we move into the Spring months.  The following is a poem I wrote titled, "silver", published in StringTown.


silver

the blue of dusk enters the bath; lilac water holds movement and a clean silhouette.  it extends 
an arm toward the faucet, like a hunter reaching for presence, while sweat adheres to the
soap.  the form does not want to engage an image deemed common by this water, nor does
it want the hyphen to siphon off the image, and although it seeks variation, what of severe
variation?  that would perhaps be an analogical push without color, too alien for the bath to
enjoy as entertainment

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