Water lilies look too shy
to order the chaos of water,
but punctuating reflections
of a brick church, a plain house,
a nineteenth-century factory,
these green circles insist
that simple forms prevail.
You aren’t as convinced as I am,
but walking from pond to graveyard
absorbs us step by step until
we’re less solid than our shadows.
The sky is creeping up our legs
to brim over and obliterate
whatever resistance remains.
The grass is sinking its roots
so deeply into the graveyard
that when the general osmosis
draws us down and skyward at once
we’ll enjoy the glib sensation,
convinced we’re organic at last.
# # #
William Doreski recently retired after years of teaching at Keene State College in New Hampshire (USA). His most recent book of poetry is The Suburbs of Atlantis (2013). He has published three critical studies, including Robert Lowell’s Shifting Colors. His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in many journals. Read more here: http://williamdoreski.blogspot.com
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