I dream I am a river

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Your slick sleek skin retains an ocean
scent. You taste of salt. I sense

your struggle, thrust, your vault
over rapids over rocks,
your swim against my stream.

My body is the bed, as cool
and still and smooth as stone.

Your heavy flanks flush molten red.
Your silky milt drifts swirling down.
And in my blurred and shadowed dream,

I placidly accept your need and sift
the sands your fry call home.

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11 Comments
secretgarden07secretgarden07over 16 years ago

Enticing metaphors. Love it.

KOLKOREKOLKOREover 16 years ago
secured in her transformations

I got used to the standard 'you are the ocean I am the shore' (or vise versa). But that's not what you were doing in your poem. Like your imagery, the images themselves shift and change, yet they stay around the same location, giving a strong sense of a sensible and stable place, despite all the shifting. I guess that's the true nature of love.

LeBrozLeBrozalmost 17 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 36,000 poems.

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sacksackover 18 years ago
Some nice imagery here....

However, "slick sleek skin" reminds me of something designed to be said three times fast, and is distracting. I also don't think the word "fry" works, all I can think of is french fries, since "fry" in this sense is so rarely used. Very good, but not your absolute best, most of this is too clever for its own good.

tarablackwood22tarablackwood22over 18 years ago
Very nice indeed.

Pay no mind to flyboy (he's an acquaintance of mine, so I can scold him). "Placidly" works perfectly. There are 2 bodies in this poem, the brackish water and the riverbed.

Here is what stumbles for me, if anything:

I sense

your struggle, thrust, your vault

over rapids over rocks,

your swim against my stream.

There certainly seems to be a comma needed between 'over rapids' and 'over rocks' ... but then, although it reads more accurately, it seems to be just too many in the series of things being sensed....something needs reworking there, though. You seem like a mighty good thinker. So, think.

A poem far above the average Lit fare.

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