I took two sips of the river’s dream
then sank. fire I was promised - so I burn
a star in the mound - as mists pass in streams
to show evenings cobalt and taciturn -
the sky yet empty. the birds had settled
and last walkers and joggers coursed the bank -
way to the star not found among nettles
nor shorn on the knoll. light is a plank
you know - a step in the innermost dark
nonetheless. which I took and now flame
is forever my body - and mind harks
back to voice that refuses all names.
there are stars that lie grounded refusing
ascension. sight of them - that would be news.
11 July 2021