The Boathouse

The boathouse is neglected
and the water passes it by without a murmur
not even a slight lick reaches inside its walls

the canoes were proud once
ventures of strength, muscling down the river
ardent yet without seduction

Now the boathouse is an eerie memorial
an architecture of past
containing experience like water damage, cracks, fissures

and the water scientists build memories
crypts
mausoleums

Writing in water
circles, ripples
'Sometimes I don't trust you, it shows in my body'

I become dry
and our lips feel rough without the warm juice of abandonment
what can lie between?

The boathouse is empty
My name written in water
The river without a time