Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Canyon Creek

Palo Duro Canyon, from Wikipedia
Your own face reflected
in water cupped in your hands:
that old image looks back
unsettled, pale as bone.

Water shimmers, water
suffused with weak light
where you look back, but down
further fingers lace up hard.

It leaks anyway.
The face shrinks and breaks.
You can dip your hands back,
can come back and fade again

in those bloodless fingers,
those rigid joints hanging on.
Relaxing, see how
stars explode in the dust.

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