Star Tribune
1 August 2007

When the concrete
Finally surrendered
To the weight of buses
And shallow moons

When the sigh
Of the river
Swallowed its own tongue

I imagine those cars
And what the hard edge
Of water
Must feel like

Years will pass,

The screeching will
make unannounced visits
On nights
When the river appears
To be sleeping

As I close my eyes
After the lamp goes off
I remember the day they told me
You would never speak

Not one word

There would only be sounds

Twenty years has passed since then

At times
I still find myself going back
to the elegiac banks of the same river

watching the water silently forgive itself
for not knowing
how to cease