Picasso's Incandescent Angel, poetry

The River

-Don’t over-compensate.
My friend advised me,
over and over again.
Did I listen? I guess;
because, I didn’t go a ground.
I navigated myself through the river,
one hand on the stainless steel wheel
and the other holding the Binoculars
to my squinting hazel nut eyes
trying to spot the next maker
be it green or red, flashing or not.

The fish and dolphins observed with sarcastic eyes
as they dodged the bow of the boat.
The bottom of the river rose
threatening
six feet, five feet, four feet
and then went back down.
I became the boat,
that stout Island Packet,
worrying about depths, winds, and wakes.
A dragonfly pilots itself beside my head;
as a pelican dives into the water for its lunch.

I have a sudden urge for food myself,
my stomache tells me that;
but, I push it out of my mind.
I’ll think about that later,
when I find a cove to anchor in;
safe from the storms
which have been bearing down,
out of the darkness that surrounds me.
But for now, me and my crooked teeth
are trying not to be succumbed by these waves
caused by the Angel which just whizzed by.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s