think thin and skinny

think thin skinny

it couldn’t be

because it’ February

but it took me

by surprise anyway

how when I drove by

the quiet river the ripples

up on the over-night ice

were like little flies

who I’d seen in summer-

time beside the wet clay bank

where the kids’ footprints

were, just the prints

not them, they’d moved

up river with their fishing

they’d like more

than bites I suppose

and promises

as the line went tight

bobber out completely

of sight and a long time

the way a diver might

at just the right light of honesty

and tighten his lips in petition
when the tank's out

when he’s sucking back

nothing and the surface’s just

above his hairline

though he can’t know

the way that glow

of red goes slow around his eyes

and he sees God not

for the first time but this time

its different tis come up

the way bubbles do

and the way they rest before their popped

selves are nothing

even though they live

on his goggles

on surfaces like grease

spots

like feet coming on again

in the mud

but it’s that trick of the light

it’s the river rising some

the kids are gone

fishing up river or really

it’s still just February

and January’s thaw

is coming undone

and I’m just driving

by and it’s ice

thin as a cornea and spreading

just as much light as to lie

and wait.