The fluorescent light
goes off and the shadows
fall apart like a cardboard fort.
The invisible should be sturdier,
like that stormy summer
the rain came so heavy
the waterfall was just
a thicker column of sky.
Now a fly throws itself
down on the formica table
and buzzes and spins
on its back, quickening
the poison. It resembles
a word scribbled out.
Won't do, won't do.
But oh you of the river-
wet lips, I miss you
this moment, and this.