They cruised along through waves
of sunlight,
like tubby longboats
with many paddling feet.
Twelve vermilion suns
peeked from their black
jointed decks.
We walked
“as the crow flies.”
We shadowed them
like trees.
Our breathing drifted
like high, thin
cirrus above them.
Later we saw dead ones
flipped on their backs—
Every day, says Milarepa,
we wake into our new life.
Susan Kelly-DeWitt | Coffee, Rain Contents | Mudlark No. 46 (2012)