Wedding Band
By Blake N
[not published yet]
The weight of water in the palm, or
A planet itself
Smooth,
As the river stone, rolls,
Soothed by
Misshapen time, to match
The odd, organic form of the once-thought
round finger. Now
a part of the hand,
A watch face.
Constant
while the travelling hand, wheels
round like the first formed ferry.
Churning, splashing,
Through the meandering rivers
Of a world in motion.
Steady like the silver eye of a waiting wolf,
Steam heaving through the nostrils,
At night, awake,
on watch.