Here
Here for David McFadden is afloat, & cold & moon lights the whole of sky above, lake face below. somewhere a beaver is swimming 60 pounds of oily fur submerged. somewhere fish are skimming the underside of legs & logs, whole auras bristling through water. are you coming? i call. to whom? two stand on shore, hard-to-see bodies wheeling a single flashlight distance erases, no path across, just flicker writing the dark there where they are. here i am i cry to the big dipper wheeling so slow overhead no one sees it go by. here i am, osprey cries, black wingspread skimming our heads in dark water. darker logs. white points of stars, sitareh, elsewhere flashing into our sky. we occur in a splash, a rush into black. we occur between this murky bottom & the arched & starred vault of heaven, no camber, no curve or curb now, this chamber roofless floats off into space. heaven is where we occur. one in the water catches up & we swim to a log that smells of tree skin. imagine beaver allure, living your days in the smell of wet wood, wet fur twisting & diving into the heart of tree remains. ah, romance, he says. & vivid on the hill, dogs, inchoate, inarticulate, or not in words anyhow, hurl their longing at the moon so full of herself. romance, he says, hit me hard. i wasn’t prepared, considering – a wailing sound, bends round the track in advance of itself, this rival light a late-night freight bewails its coming. in its flare we tread water, watch a rolling roar of white illumine just one side of cottonwoods noon, afloat on shiny water trying to explain – there weren’t many trains on my track. as it fades, as it rolls on into no one’s black heaven. 22 / Rivering ...
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