A child
I think
has left a small bundle of twigs
tied with ribbon
a handful of pebbles
shaped into a mountain
and the jawbone of a sheep
dug up from the river bed
The peace here takes me back
to the first time we walked these woods
whether we were older and dirtier
or young fools without flesh
We stopped to rest at this shrine
but my eyes are cold
as I run my hands over you
you are not me
We had a picture of constellations
divided up between us
never troubled
by the light years of distance
~ ~ ~
Duck Race
Do you have duck race?
– where they chuck a hundred plastic ducks
to stream and flow and cross the line
your duck comes up
you win –
Forget the stream
laze the bank
watch the ducks all fuck on by
read a book