the depths of your oceanic eyes
and was dry to the knees
tonight,
where before this flailing
limbs only kept me
inches from sinking.
The surface has shifted.
Rather, the unfathomable deeps
of water in your body, slogging
through arteries and clogging
them with dreams,
have lost their depth.
A year, almost,
after finding my ghost lover, one sad
beyond reckoning and smitten
with beauties only I could share,
I don't think he survives
any longer. I lost him
high on the tenth floor
between a gust of wind
and an upturned collar.
The air is clear
now, the nights are colder.
A season lost
and the wheel of the year has turned
to its long slow under-arc, the basin
that is winter
falling.
Creek beds
run sluggish in the heat,
slowly in the freezing,
and rivers
that only last year floated
ships in your eyes
come barely to my knees.
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