Friday, 16 September 2016

Copper Pennies

Christen my blood in your name as
I try to lick it clean. It tastes
mildly of copper pennies tossed
into the river and it will
sediment into the rocks, and
one day you will find copper-brown
stones at the base of the creek when
you leave me here to go swimming.

Chasing the feeling of it all,
I have to leave, return to that
creek on a summer night.
Pause where the water illuminates
the light of something lost within you.
Maybe we'll find it after all.

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