(River’s Muscle, is a poem from my book, Small Arcs of Larger Circles. I post it today to celebrate Valentine’s Day, as a reminder to myself and anyone one else who needs reminding, that love requires reflection and stillness.)
Rivers coursing over landscapes meet and fold their molecules in muscles of current,
Without yield, without stacking one sandbag against the surge.
I ask you to be strong, strong enough to release your hold against turbulence.
A forest of trees, each leaf a receptor for the caress of the wind, is wealthy in sensations.
I ask you to be rich, banking each whisper of affection against the poverty of numbness.
I am a pool of water, cupped in your palms, your reflection flickers on my surface, wobbly in the movement of light.
I ask you to have courage to see yourself there, transparent, clean, as I see you.
For one second, for a million years. A city skyline of jagged grace is held against the same clouds the dinosaurs pondered,
I ask you to be loyal to your own transformations, while I shift and twist in mine.