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by Catherine Owen

I can barely see the river today



I can barely see the river today – all mist & train whistles & that

insistent rain –


last day of October – when the veil is thin as they say and I can imagine

you returning –


as a leaf maybe the wind slows to a ballet outside my window – in the symbolic

mostly now –


even in dreams you are not you really or just a residue of feeling

I call upon –


how could you be gone I still ask though less – knowing & refusing

& knowing again –


the thickened tips of forests gone gold, water everywhere in the world

rising –


it would have been 11 years & now it’s basically endless – a forever commemoration

of who you were –


though you will never see me age into a stranger – never watch this river

I have written into myself


appear as the grey that razes it lifts  and nothing much has changed & yes

everything has altered.

by Catherine Owen