Poem for a Water Sign
There is something left unsaid: for wounding eyes,
a cut of silence bled for washing clean.
In frequent deep, voices unwed; lone
divers careless in this wet sky,
a stroke above the clouds that
part their waves to meet God.
She swims to this sign,
a glass-winged girl
heaven-sent,
stirring
sluggish soil
and flooding deaf
horizons with the
brook's gurgle, a babble
academy loosing its
flow, dismissing what may shatter
stone. There is no fear of drowning, no
caution at the water's edge. All is safe
she will say, in sinking to the sea below.
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