Since Morning

Martha Rhodes

How can anyone conjure the invisible

and yet the invisible was arguing

with my friend by her parents’

stretch of river, where it is narrowest.

I walked down the path, towel

and picnic over my shoulder,

looking toward the clearing

where it’s easiest to enter the water

and saw them — my friend

and the misty shapes entangled,

pushing — I felt like a brush of dusk

upon them, the closer I came,

the darker they were. Did my friend

need my help? And then the stream

thickened, threatening to overcome me

and I climbed a high rock.

Night poured down though it was just noon,

my back sweating. I wouldn’t see

my friend again until dinner. Finally,

where have you been? she scolded.

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