Poetry / November 2012 (Issue 19)

Li Po's Drowning

by Bob Bradshaw

I long to embrace you, moon,
bathing weightless just off my boat.
Here, a drink.  I toast you.
You tremble listening to my sad lines,
as if they were written about us.
Yet you manage to compose yourself.
How long you have been my companion
in these mountains, along these waters...
Why should you be surprised tonight
when I pull you into my arms?
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