Poet's Pub

The waltz

by R. Reklaw

When the river is full it slips, slides, and rolls.

Like a tan snake, belly up - slithering.

Warm air kisses the water, with steamy puffs,

As a slipstream whistles them along.

At the rivers edge, banks are soaked stringy soft.

Sweaty mud, crumbling along the way.

A promenade of debris rides upon the slick surface.

New, old, juicy, torn and spongy.

Within the wet embrace a corpse bobs and turns.

Bitten, ripped and gouged bloodless.

Darkened eye holes scan the gray clouds above,

Then drift beneath the eddies for a look.

And the rotting body does it's deadly river dance,

It's rhythm sure with this perfect partner.

An ancient ceremony marries them - bonds them.

Both now fluid messengers forevermore.

Swiftly, sloshing whirlpools pull at the corpse.

Seducing it down toward the river bed.

Twice more, eyeless black openings gaze skyward,

Then, blinded by the undertow they cry.

So death swims into the old arms of the doomed,

To attend a banquet, swelling with life.

It bumps, smashes and shreds along the ragged bottom,

It's lust finally finished - at last dissolved.