The Wires

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Reveal the moon in all her finery,

For I am what the river wants tonight.

I am the one who speaks into the dark,

And I am tired of the solitude.

This wandering ghost adrift in orange groves,

Adrift in heartache, lost as Salome

Inside the Baptist's mouth. 

The river speaks:

You spent your best days and nights in search

Of where the wires end. And that's a crime!

You looked so hard for answers you forgot

The questions, didn't you? Well, that's alright.

And don’t you fret; I’ll make it so you don’t 

Forget. It's hard to make the river cry,

You know? Yet still, it happens by and by.  

You will Arise Arise from up my drink,

And walk into the heart of certainties,

And don't forget your kettle of fish.

You're welcome.