Fool’s Gold. {Poetry}

In the geography of loving,

I am lost
among the tributaries within
The World of Rivers map hanging on my wall
whenever I glance up,
and see the veins of blue
within blue,
without boundaries defined
by country lines
instead its a map
defined by watersheds,
like the contours of relationships,

I see my own one,
flowing east to west
river’s bank
now charred black
by Butte Fire,
smoke cleared
in blue sky
rivers reminding me of you,
coolness in the uncontrollable waves of your eyes,
as you left
fool’s gold along my sandbar
where I stood
tapping each exposed boulder with my bare toes,
seeing its steadiness
before I let it hold me up,

as I crossed over the waters of uncertainty,

knowing full well
that these maps
of rivers
in our world of water
are as pure as our hearts
of gold,

and sometimes not to scale.

Copyright 2015 ~ jes wright


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