Rosemarie Crisafi

From the River's Edge

Winter chops the Hudson with its squall.
Your eyes drown between the swells
and the pale small sun.
Corrugated water spits
as gray sleet strikes
black ridges.

You have locked your face tight,
I search but find nobody. At our feet
our cats had stretched
snow-white into black silk. Now
they curl with dust
sleeping under the bed
confused and blind.

Identical mountains slump
in fog more pallid than old age.
after you walk away
How do I feel guarding this bank?
I want to find you
yet I cannot discern your shape.
From where I stand,
on the edge, all is equal and white.

Rosemarie Crisafi lives in Wappingers Falls, New York. She works for a non-for-profit agency that serves individuals with disabilities. She is interested in literature and films, and enjoys the process of writing poetry. Currently, she has poems published online at Rock Salt Plum, Astropoetica and Experimental Poetry.com. Other poems have been accepted for future publication in Millers Pond and Tin Lustre Mobile, Ancient Paths, and The Carriage House Review. email: R.Crisafi