ORPHEUS

2 6 Y O R P H E U S T E R E S E S V O B O D A . . . the trees moved close to shade him, becoming creaturely . . . – Michael Schmidt, The First Poets In case anyone is wondering, the river road is closed. In case anyone is wandering, a geranium’s lost blossoms across the asphalt. No, that’s drops of blood against the black. The river will rise to sluice it, And since someone’s assigned fish and birds thinking souls, It’s easy to explain the waves’ origin: plate movement, china plates, You think Japan in an anime of someone just come to grief. We’ll just wait, we’ll just stop all the tooth-brushing and moneygathering And folderol and sit here and wait-and-see, you-and-I, you being Really too squeamish to stop and myself stopping naturally, Poetically, at a skid, the head, its gouts, a stopper. If you run o√, you won’t see the waves wash over it, there’s won’t be a single grimace Left by the time the siren-makers swing in, there will only be the trees, nodding. But I’ll say it if you won’t: The sound it makes is singing. ...