PIROUETTES ON THE RIVER

Staring out at the swift
heaving river
I look in my heart
and all I see is
all I’ve seen before:

a love abandoned to rust, questions
smelling like formaldehyde;
nothing to match the
life of this never-
ending stream.

A boulder is lodged
on the unseen bed below me,
its top poking through
like weathered road hump
in an old school zone.

The flow going forward
is forced back up;
an island of grass is spun
in the vortex
a graceful dance.

I unload my heart on
to the circle, and
watch her pirouette
before moving on far —
out, the far-out sea.

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