Verdad Magazine Volume 6
Spring 2009, Volume 6
Poetry by R. T. Castleberry
Water at Stone
Bordered by cul de sac and river's curling wake,
beneath the shaded sweep of a summer oak,
night swimmers undress along the stony bank.
Halfway done with evening miles,
a runner pauses to consider
the passive lunar light.
On this Good Friday, this Easter weekend,
I'm in love, though it's useless to me.
Rains come at ten—
sly skirls that sheet the narrow lanes
between homestead Colonial and pre-fab mansion,
flooding cobblestone courtyards, brick turnarounds.
The sight of lightning strikes,
the scents of orange blossom and crape myrtle
seep through curtains and windows.
I cannot rest.
My bed is a drain for water pounding at stone,
a scale that will not bear the measure of a minute.
By four, rainfall has turned to runoff,
the light sleepers are settling back.
The view beyond the valley—
cobalt glaze of ocean
dream-sliced by lanes of rolling fog,
wake of tanker and fishing trawler,
binds me to every wave
ruined on the coastline shoals.
I can see the flicker of wreathed red eyes
as stray animals cross the beach.
I've lost my nerve.
BIO: I'm the former co-editor/co-publisher of the poetry monthly, Curbside Review, and a co-founder/director of The Flying Dutchman Writers Troupe. My work has appeared in numerous journals including Illya's Honey, Green Mountains Review, The Alembic, Texas Review, Concho River Review, Poet Lore and Pacific Review.