Aphelion Issue 244, Volume 23
October 2019
 
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Skimming Rocks on a Pond, Called 'Me'

by Bryon D. Howell


Water still.
Still,
very still.

The trees held their
arms
over us,
umbrellas of
leaves,
hid us from
God.

Ripples raced
to the bank.

Nothing snagged
quite as hard as
my eyes
at the sight of
you,
my young Knight
wading to me.

The kiss.

Satan
who had apparently invited
himself,
was watching,
and roasting
worms

on the hibachi.

Lines untangled,
the clouds
wept,
and fish flew into the
sun
like raisins

chasing a rainbow.

I was this
water -
cleansing your
sword
of blood.

Still,
very still.

Water
still,

and on the moon.


© 2007 Bryon D. Howell

Bryon D. Howell is a poet currently residing in New Haven, Connecticut. He has been writing poetry for a great number of years. Recently, his poetry has appeared in poeticdiversity, Red River Review, The Quirk, The Cerebral Catalyst, and The Lost Beat. Bryon is also the Editor-in-Chief of three online poetry 'zines: The Persistent Mirage, Bringing Sonnets Back, and Quentin's Naughty Poetry Journal.

Find more by Bryon D. Howell in the Author Index.

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