iced cove harbors
something green, living.
Caves hold moaning winds,
narrow caverns echo tones
too shrill to pass singly.
I discovered such a place
past wide bluffs, narrow currents,
out of the piercing sun.
Around my head horseflies once feasting
like starved mosquitoes felt the shade sting,
abandoned flesh for white noon light.
deep stone room was ancient,
moist, dark with magic.
Its tilted roof shimmered in light spectrum
as if jewels lined mossy walls,
tricking the hand of riches.
Bats dripped like black oil,
trickled the high pitch of night moves,
a setting drawn with unpleasant dreams
lost to the river.
2River View, 1_4 (Summer 1997)