Redemption
after T.S. Eliot
Angie O’Neal
instead of ground
feel the stirring,
the turning away.
see a fox in the park dart into
a forest of ashes.
these days the things deepest
down are always disappearing
like spindrift—
wilderness,
acts of devotion,
as the angler waits on the shore,
apprentice to the slow dance of
nature
its long withholding—
its sudden flourish.
follow and take the way of the river
through the city,
indeterminate on
tributaries of absence.
go missing and apostrophize
on ancient waters, cast a line
like a pair of gills, filaments
sifting the current for air.
watch the kayak upturned,
floating ahead like a promise,
breath shallow as a
bluegill out of water
wingbeats quickening in
a flight of tree swallows
approaching a silver sky.
let it slip away like time
between your fingers,
an epiphany breaking open on
the waves—oars like empty arms
reaching out to touch the sea.