To the East River and Her Bridges:

[blueflame11]

I’ve seen you dressed a few
hundred
different ways,
but never this-

delicately,
shyly,
a periwinkle blush
rising from
or
falling on
(who can say?)
the water’s
curling waves.
Sleeplike,
dreamlike,
a miasmic highway
in the dusky sky.

Were I a gull,
I’d tip my wing
to your subtle majesty.
Were I a fisherman,
I’d lift my hat
and
bend my knees
to your radiant shore.

But I am a poet.
(But I am a thief.)
so I’ll thank you
on my mottled
paper.
I’ll remember you
with my weeping
ink,
and paint my dreams
A new veil
of purple tonight.

-KEA, 7/22/08