The River And Her Poem by RIC BASTASA

in the slow history of the river flowing
she wants to mark her own name with her fingers

religiously she goes there on a ritual of her own
naked she dips her skin on the water

so soft are her feet on the bed of pebbles
deep down the fishes ask for more of her toes

touched the river begins to sing a song for her
the bamboo leaves keep watching what happens next

will love dance on the surface of flimsy reasons?
will passion appear and last forever?

the banks want to close in on them: the river and her
the sun is worried what will happen next


it did end, but it was sad, as sad as the butterfly that lost one of its wings.
the river loses its name as she plunges deep to the tight arms of death.