for Carly

inspired by Eamonn Wall’s “The Found World”

We talked on the rooftop of Tony’s,
late at night, both with pitchers
of Long Island Iced Teas awaiting
our dry, open mouths, both mulling
over our memories of lovers and poor
decision-making processes. Those below
kept our attention and gave us something
to laugh about when the darkness
of St. Charles became darker
and the stars went into hiding
with the sun for the night.
We wished we were on the countryside,
across the pond, surrounded by sleeping
geese and roaming lamb, taking in
the light of the worlds we’ll never
really really see. But I would go
to Ireland with you, my dearest
friend, my confidant, the light
for my leaves, the rain in my pond,
the sand of my shores, at any moment,
and we could watch other worlds burn,
not ours. Ours is stony and whole,
and for others, unattainable—
so very like climbing from below
up to the waterfall’s brink,
stony and whole, but to be done
with proper movements, for reaching
these heights is no simple task—
it is far more than just moments
of craft and experience. But,
are there waterfalls in Ireland?

If not, let’s make one.
Let’s course through woods
of the land, wind along
roadside slopes, and find
a cliff—surely cliffs stand
in Ireland—and fall from
the edge of the bluff
into the calm, slate
waters below. That sounds
nice. Let’s be waterfalls
forever. Let me be rain
with you, let me wash up
from your coasts, let me
rise into your skies,
and let me fall over
the cliffs of the country-
side. We will always be
two drops of the water
in the same sea,
you and I.


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