It's become my practice to alternate between one of my own and a poem from a poet I love. It's my turn today, and as Liz has asked that we use one of our own, here is a poem that is now 3 years old. Time it saw the light of day.
This is not the poem
This is not the poem of our marriage,
of the long, slow river that it was,
of the width or the depth or the length of it,
of the life, the lives it sustained.
Is this the poem of the way it turned to salt?
Came to a place where we couldn’t tell
we were falling into tidal flats,
flooding, then seeing it all seep away,
filling and failing in turn.
And no going back, no way
to rinse the brine from us?
No choice but to flow into the sea
out of the sprawling estuary wasteland
of the last years?
More Thursday Poems Here