Poetry

by nicky O



Silver

illuminated metallic moon,
the taste of tin
on the lip of a can, its beaded droplets
sweating
the ghostly satellites back
at me.

i wink--

watch the river sigh
its ripples sterling,
feel the weight, the cool press, the solid sliver
of a cross and its balm,
while the green leaves
glisten
in a shade of
silver.