Dear All, I wonder if I have somehow got outside the
loop since there's very little coming in. So I guessed
the thing to do was to put more out, as a test of
sorts.

ANOTHER POEM WITH A WARNING: may have a too upsetting
image for some.Promise a cheerful one next.
cheers,cara





---             Washed-Up

      |She walks by the river
       crosses the foot-bridge
       over turbulent falls,
       flounders in cattle  prints
       near the stiles.
       Buoyant mallards make light
       of choppy waters
       or tuck themselves up on banks
       to dose in wintry sun.
       A herring-gull, tired of its laziness,
       makes off on sturdy wing.
       Sometimes she uses her binoculars.
       She hears the current's suck and pluck
       at the deep edges under the trees,
       then follows where the river widens,
       mockingly innocent in its calm.
       Four men come towards her on the path
       one wreathed in rope.
       They pass with grave greetings.
       Would it take so much rope? she wonders
       as she had doubted the relevance
       of the gaudy canoes and their yellow-jacketed
       operators.

       She turns back,
       feels useless.
       She knows nothing of water rescue.
       Has spent, it seems, a lifetime
       rescuing others from lesser hurts
       on dry land.

       As she crosses the last stile
       the ooze of melted creosote
       spreads into her palm;
       but what she sees is blood
       from a tossed head
       merging
       into sullen waters.

cara                         November 2001

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