the rivers of it, abridged

New York City skyline at night




Katrina Kostro

Simmer on Low

A bowl of soup post-surgery:
clear broth, fresh ginger, mushrooms, kale.
The tongue asleep begs perjury
before last judgments ring up bail.

A pair of thirsty irises
collide and spiral. One drop please?
Thin lids fall. Syncopated fizz,
uneven ooze – ah-choo! – one sneeze
enough to falter. Press pound now.
Bleak busy signal. Stop. Re-dial.
One has to rush before the bow.
Beethoven stays only a while.

Unlaundered velvet curtains wade.
Gauze dressings rip. Red house lights fade.


Star-crossed Blue Eyes

The midnight sky was navy blue
White snowflakes fell frost-bitten anchors
The heat pipes clanked as wind blew through
Wide gaping window swallowed blank words
Then you leapt out towards quarter moon
A feline whiskered rocket ship!
But unlike astronauts in tune           
With gravity your body dipped
Straight down four legged black-nosed diver
Your meow projects past shooting star
I watch you summersault  Here life purrs
Five other Siamese from far
away surround me. Then, you crawl
right under covers; sweet dreams call.



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