Where the River is Lost in the Lake
by James Owens



The meeting of water and water is about silence.
We let silence sway on its stem in our mouths,

cold daylight a silver wire drawn through the air.
What sounds there are hold their shapes.

Five ducks lift and skim their images.
The blur-blur of their wings wakes into distance.

The moment comes and dissolves.
The moment comes and dissolves.

At the edge of things a pulse of small waves.
The floating dock grieves against its moorings.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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