Suspended Belief

Swimming beneath the swinging bridge

so much is Ozark green—the water’s surface,

our necks, my skin beneath your silver.

Face to face we bob, our feet softly kicking

each other. It’s nothing to untie a string. To

let fabric rise and float. Who could see? Everyone

is working but us. We have to make a choice:

Move to the riparian zone, do this under dense

cover, wrapped in smartweed, poison ivy.

Or brave smooth bank, laid out like a brash snake

heating itself over polished stone. I keep treading

in possibility and this is why I’m with you: you pull me

by the wrist, through the water, out of options.

Vehicles begin to rattle above us, freeing rough

chert between the steel cables and rotting beams.

I collect the fallen rocks in the concave of my back.

Eyes shut, I could be anywhere; we could be anything.

They could be diamonds. This could be dancing.

This poem appeared in The Baltimore Review, Fall 2025.

10.09.2026

komentarze