~MARTIN WALLS~

A BEND IN ONONDAGA CREEK

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Water quickens past the river bank where I sit
On my lunch break, wondering how it remembers

Pouring from the tower above New Process Gear,
Or is it rifling through its pockets to find change

For the vagrant who has already disappeared down
The towpath & into the tunnel, or does it emulate

The jawbone of the pretty clerk chatting with her
Less comely friends out on their walk—the sky

Bends to it, kisses are raindrops, raindrops are
Words I almost speak, the creek making

A noise indistinguishable from the laughter
Of the girls as they climb the steps to the office:

She has so many secrets to tell me, but
They must wait until the close of business.

   

© by Martin Walls