buried treasure

remember the marriage of pronouns?
i held you tight and we both wish-kissed
and the river ran silent beneath loose boards
and scattered petal

that bridge is still standing
but years ago one side sank deep
into the mud of bottled anger

you can still get across
but you must walk crooked
and the path to the sky
has filled in with unspoken apology

all bridges are metaphors and ours
was no different

any day now the stream banks will sing
with a riot of daffodil trumpet
and we’ll hold hands in the rain
because we have two chairs

and this garden became us
or them or in the evenings at least
you and me

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month. Day 6
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge
Today’s theme is a PAD’s write an ekphrastic poem—a poem inspired by art

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