River Music
He begins by whispering a hum
in her hair, along her neck,
already smooth with sweat.
Mosquitoes buzz in
through the open windows.
In the morning she will be dotted. He too.
Across the river, lights on a cranky car
flash down the road
and she loses her place—where was she? Ah, yes,
here with him, sweet-throat, nestled among trees,
nose of the Chevy pointing into the bushes.
Crickets, frogs, barking dogs punctuate
the love sentence. The steady wash of the water.
She loves the listen of the river.
Where is she again? O, yes, rushing headlong,
a river in floodstage.
His hands lift the floodgate.
His mouth here and here, O yes, and there,
love the listen of the river,
the rush of the current.
His voice, a croon, she opens O sweet tune.
O hush a moment for breath, an easy breath.
Feeling each other’s music made flesh—
How long can they hold those notes?
How long can they move those bodies
with the rhythm of the river?
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