a thin film

for Rhiannon


Our marvelous rafts,
ghost ships, wandering
tides along floating branches,
insects, floating,
bursts of laughter

carried in from summer days
carried over bends groves
oceans, memories
carried, folded
through sieves,
rivers silk-folded for
a stone to stand, a hand to

as a breath held
beneath the absence of bullfrogs,
turbines, engines, folded
cloth. Quiet
among thrushes, thin-rippled
summer days;

a marvelous glaze, our green
for golden days,
algae-thick brown eyebrows
sieved to silk-folded
floating, shimmering,
rafts floating
as the first words of laughter,

peals of laughter, marvelous
bellies of

wind-carried to a forgotten grove
we float naked, quiet,
ghost futures wavering,
upon arrival.




Note: At the Marys River, Corvallis, as it washes into the Willamette.

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