Still Water Prose Poems
Copyright @ 1989 by Arthur Garfunkel
Used by persmission of Author - All Rights Reserved
We both had cotton T-shirts from Redfish Lake
in Idaho, mine green, hers white. We had had them
from before we met . . . At night in our bliss, she
slept in only this, the captured sailfish nestled across
her perfect chest.
In the morning at the dawn of consciousness, I
would nuzzle under her armpit where the blonde
hair was. There, in her smell, was my elemental
resting place, straddler of dreams and the day, I see
that cotton short sleeve cut her beautiful bicep at the
top. Under it within that crumpled skinny harbor,
safe again in love's conviction, I long to return.