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The International Magazine of Poetry & Graphics ▪ Bi-monthly ▪ March/April 2008


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POETRY

 

P A MORBID

 

Across the East River

I can see, just dimly,

The outline of your house.

 

Above it, in the clear

Night air, a scattering

Of diamonds shine.

 

They glitter and

Sparkle against

The black sky.

 

There is the river

Between us, a

Rushing of water

 

That goes mostly

Unseen in the dark.

If I call out to you

 

The distance is not

Far I doubt if you

Would hear. The

 

Water and the wind

Would snatch my

Voice away and

 

Carry it, along with

The drifting starlight,

Far to the South.

 

 

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