Tuesday, October 11, 2011

ring flinger

parting the moss
reaching an unadorned hand
into the cold water

turning up
a bottle cap
soiled in the murky depths

a moment ago like a fish
splashing off a fat worm

fingers now in again
caressing the river bed
for the missing ring
sensation running

backwards in time
an anchor sinking into the cherwell
flashing back to the jeweler's

and tossed
upon the dreaming spires

1 comment:

  1. This poem is almost incomprehensible, though perhaps all your poems are.