Cheryl J. Fish: In the Mangroves

=================================== Fall '11 TOC


The drive for love is like moving South
slow and fragrant expectation, citrus
in your mouth
Get closer and closer, distance swells like fate
Practice makes imperfect, bitter spices taste

Your levee breaches, and I’m twisted in wind
How do we arch so we feel sweat and skin?
The climb is constant, sloping long indirect slow
Driving to tell them all I’ll never know

Pretty as prenatal, and birth as a break
Weather is endless and
So are my mistakes
Deep down South I found I could watch trees
At home I am nothing but a notebook full of needs

Diving for love and surfing waves on chance
You think you found it, but merely nonchalance

Deep in the mangroves, you don’t see any men
Just a still and swollen silence right before you swim.


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