After It
The Hudson dark like a rock.
The Hudson rocking this boat.
There is no light coming from it.
There is a boat moving blackly
through the night. He holds out
his hand.
There is no light coming from it.
There is a boat moving blackly
through the night. He holds out
his hand.
I sit next to a man I never loved but let
kiss me wetly for two months.
Jersey twinkles in and out of this.
When will I turn back
to a cold, gold thing? After
the year the river still presses
with a kiln’s glowing shade.
Knots of burnt rubber
unlace the air.
They were not bodies because bodies
travel faster.
with a kiln’s glowing shade.
Knots of burnt rubber
unlace the air.
They were not bodies because bodies
travel faster.
