At the river
Just because I gave up the moon for you
doesn’t mean I’ll give up the river.
No, I hold close the lapping sounds it makes,
the clamor of the geese honking as they land
the way the deer wade out into its swift current.
I hold close the infinite memories it contains
— the midnight swims, the drownings.
I hold close the way it shines in the moonlight,
under the stars, deep in the quiet.
I hold this river close and it returns my embrace.
I am here, alone, just me,
a woman without the moon, yes,
but with a river of her very own.
— Diane Carmony
Diane Carmony 