CORTEGE
Sky severs the river
in the eclipse on the bridge,
you paint my eyes white.
You measure the city of air
with silk threads
from cedar roots,
and on the foundation,
marbles effigy the dress
of every name.
I praise the blue movement
of the evening,
the wind settles
on the back of your neck,
the running waters nourish
the cortege of a solar palm.
John Swain lives in Le Perreux-sur-Marne, France. His most recent chapbook, The Daymark, was published by the Origami Poems Project.
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