Golden as wheat, shock of silk’s
glide over your thigh, Emily’s loaded

gun, Golden Gate’s steel rapture
arcing over water. The body’s

poor instruments can’t calibrate
so vast a joy, that condenses

into clouds, descends
as rain, becomes spring

water that enters my body
as wine. Destroyer of time’s

black box, calling God’s bluff, lifting
self’s veneer to reveal,

under weathered silver,
supple greenwood, softened grain.
 
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Susan Firghil Park has worked as a psychotherapist and editor and lives on the Necanicum river estuary in Seaside, Oregon. Her chapbook, Estuary Light, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2005. She is currently a student in the low-residency MFA program of Pacific Lutheran University's Ranier Writers Workshop.
E-mail: spark at freedomnw dot com
More information on Susan Firghil Park’s new book
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