Poem from Cecile Rossant
hushed time creeping quietly out of the mouth
between the teeth
time lapping against the cheekbone arch
a swirl of dark pooling in the eye socket
a swirl of dark
the sun still low
fish? in these waters?
one escaping the city
yes. of course.
this canal leads somewhere
don't tell her about the escapee
she doesn't need to relive his death