My Orpheus
You fumble across a rivulet,
Damping your play clothes.
Then up the bank
And along a meandering trail.
Upstream, the ice jam you passed
Sluggishly threatens to birth spring.
Walking downstream you come to
A beaver dam laden with rotting grass.
Your friend has caught up,
Together you descend and carefully cross.
Up again then down to a mud skimmed clearing,
With the stream's embolism lapping at the edge.
Unseen and unheard over the horizon,
The threatening flood sleeps still.
You squeeze your friend's hand, turn,
And climb the paving stones to higher ground.
REFLECTION IN A WINDOW
Do you notice me two booths in front of you?
Looking over your shoulder,
As twilight presses on the restaurant's back window.
In it you are a reflection of a reflection.
Your ghost eyes look to me,
Look through me --
Look to a future setting red and mean across a dusty overpass.
A future I can only see in reflection.
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