Conversation by the River
Silence follows us,
a shapeless shade without grace,
not golden but copper tinged green.
Words like flitting birds break through;
Inhaling feels like pepper
so I hold my breath.
It's come to this.
We stand on the sands of said and unsaid,
the surface fragile, kisses too few —
Love is a haze we stumble through.
Kelly Eastlund grew up in Colorado and currently lives in the Pacific Northwest. Her writing has appeared in the online journals Four and Twenty, A Handful of Stones, and The Queen Bee Collective, as well as the anthology Pay Attention: A River of Stones.