Body in the water

Going down to the water, dark, late, night-water, smoothing
Under the moon, plate of light swaying on a mirror, witness
To the weatherchange, coatless-cold or shoulder-bare heat,
The year by year change I witness down by the water.
Not only the change of my face growing old by the water,
But all its meanings and its story dug lines in the water.
I stand under the clear, blank sky, clean slate, waiting
To be written on the skin; any hand or any writing,
Any word or any sound will do; any cloudless clear
And ink black thrill breathed leaves me wanting more.
Imagine, the body in the water sways with the moon,
A harder me, more there, more real, fingers holding tightly
Onto any skin, pressing till it breaks, and bone scratches bone.
The oldest whispers, his hand in the water, smoothing
The side of the younger me’s face.  “What do we do now?
What do you want?  What can I do for you, here, in this place?”  

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