A. Lynn Blumer

Drifter

We talked on the edge 
of a cliff—somewhere 
you & I had lived for 
a long, long time.

Your eye held a knowing,
& although I wish I knew
what it was you said,
that look was the same as always.

Then you left the ledge.
I watched you seep into 
a black shallow creek bed,
beneath lay the reflection
of the moon—fragmented
from all the small & large rocks.

You came into my life 
at the perfect time & then 
we kept each other for a while.

Thirteen times around now.
Thirteen rotations watching 
each other grow & yet, 
saw what never changed.

I have to go – I have to go
retrieve your body from
the bottom of the cliff.
I have to make a sled
out of sticks & drag you 
somewhere I can dig—

& I’ll dig, through rock & root, 
multiple lifetimes of sediment,
under deep for a safe spot to 
finally put down your bones.