Lute

Cavern dripping stalactites 
pooling aquamarine and black. 

Here, the pen dips into ink pots. 

Here, the wind plucks water reeds 

like a lute vexes skin, bone and chromosome.

B.F.M.

I row & row

A little rower 

in his chipped blued rowboat

pushing and pulling words 

into 

and 

out of 

a barren sea’s 

slapping waves.

B.F.M.