There is no fording that wide river
or even seeing the other side,
the ferry’s terminus. No promises
only memory: I can’t live there.
Even the cheap-o horror movies
show that those who cross
back are much changed—bloodless,
heartless—they might as well
be strangers.
Like addiction or worse, like
eternally kicking the habit, I yearn
for the touch that can’t be felt,
trembling, cotton-mouthed, unable
to think of anything else.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 25, Issue 5.
Jonathan B. Aibel is a recovering software engineer who lives in Concord, MA, traditional homelands of the Nipmuc. His poems have been published, or will soon appear, in Chautauqua, American Journal of Poetry, Lily Poetry Review, Ocean State Review, Pangyrus, and elsewhere.
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