—LOSING MYSELF TO THE COMPROMISING

 

Speakeasy 

         after Donna Hilbert

 

Grief is a river

I can’t swim 

outcropped rocks 

nicking my skin 

an eddy dragging me 

down where the undertow 

tests its octave 

inside a speakeasy

each gurgle of air 

a globe of hope or prayer 

popping over the surface 

like a fresh sin 

or debts someone else

should settle soon 

while wise old owl 

perched crooked 

in the pine

wishes us all 

Happy Earth Day!

looking upriver