Riverside Blues

by Aidan Andrew Dun

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A bulldog
eats a piece of
buttered toast by
the old green bridge
trying to curve
like a moon.

I hear someone
saying: ‘The possible
risk of coffee’.
The surface
is an analog of
clear overheavens.

A boat passes
dividing blue sky
for a while;
cross-ripples
wipe-out a reflection
a black tree.

It only takes
a slim keel
moving slowly to
upset the heavens
obliterate
vision.






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