publishing poetry only

Monday's Poem

Meghan Pacheco lives in Kelowna, B.C., and is a poet trapped in an accountant's body.

© 2011 Meghan Pacheco


Eastward, river gossips
over apathetic stones. Paces
nervously between silt
and air, occasionally breaking
covalence of current.
Restless water circles
perpetuity of land, obeys
laws of gravity. Even the
rain is nostalgic, falling
beneath memory of thunder.
Westward, desert encroaches
compromise of forest. Sun hangs
like a curtain, draped and heavy
across beard of coniferous.
Mountains arrange
marriage of tributary, guide
her unto steadier passage. Soon
your name is a language
buried beneath Cheslatta sands.