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Green River Armistice
by Burgess Needle

Spooked by the spring-mud torrent
of the Green River, seeking to hook
a gilled glitter or two, we stood
A lover joyously in tune with every sense
A neurotic self detached aloof.
Beneath the nervous bobber movement
instant pressure on the line yellow flash
leaping once splashed back
hard lifting our neck hairs.
Slack line revealed a round-lipped carp.
Pan-fried with onions, it delivered
a thousand bones styrofoam flesh.
On the banks of the river we heated
and ate beef stew, then shoveled
earth over every golden scale we could shake
loose from skin and clothes.
The Hunter’s moon etched cottonwood branches
on our tent the lover full of night terrors
the detached self chilled by the river’s breeze.
Suddenly, both were heated by brain-fever.
Armistice was declared for the inner war.
We swore respect for each other’s view
of thought of passion hopefully vouching
a constancy neither fish nor shadows survived.
Flies came to applaud our pact
with encores of mica wings.
Around our bones, blood ebbed and flowed,
Matching the the river’s irregular pulse
all through the long wait until morning.

Originally published in IODINE.

Now a part of EVERY CROW IN THE BLUE SKY collection.

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