beneath stars,
and bridges,
one flat, one arched
the river’s
always on the move
and eventually
when it’s so dark
that only sound matters
that river is all –
broken street-lights, shuttered stores
even houses and the people in them
disappear –
I lie in bed
distinguishing from silence
a low hymnal
blue and gray sound –
far from here
it’s just starting out –
far from here
it’s already where it’s going –
within earshot
both these things are happening.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. His work has recently been published in New Plains Review, Stillwater Review and Big Muddy Review, and is upcoming in Louisiana Review, Columbia College Literary Review and Spoon River Poetry Review.
Foxglove Journal 