On the bridge the laned cars
queue like cells in a narrowed artery.
Beneath all that
the river: a broad mirror
After rain
as I walk beside the mirror
I’m poor as an empty can
left on an exiled mattress
The path and I become
more travelled Our spaces
open Our stones
loosen
After rain as the light rises
the twigs that hang
by the river glint
with tiny gems
First published in Creatrix