Watershed
Dream, come clear—
gather up a stream,
a humble headwater
branch and
hew a channel
widen to a river
rapid
undaunted
to mirror-slow silence
with the bridge’s rusted ribs
on still shallows.
Over the dam
trundle under—
deadly water
unfroth
auburn
eddying
darker
westward.
Still.
And always
move toward the pier.
The lighthouse
on white
of waves
a moon–lumened
blue movement
in a current
carried
away.
Ravens
watches
tricks
and sweets
a hollow
ulna
the sweep of feet
pins and needles
hands on deck
missing soldiers
cenotaphs
empty foils
charred stems
hangnails
herbs
bitter gin
Orpheus’ fine
blue string
everything that’s
in your dream
I am thine
and you are me
what stands in for
synecdoche?
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