Pinned
Reaching
Lover,Â
you stand on the black-sand
shores of the woeful
island nestled
forlorn and proud
in the centerÂ
of that onyx mirror lake.Â
The ink surface
undulates and roils,Â
the meanders of steam
reaching towardsÂ
the firmament invites
you to come unburdenÂ
yourself in the boundless
caressing depths.Â
The only warningÂ
for the clever pedestrianÂ
are half buriedÂ
bleached bones hidingÂ
in the piles of chipped Â
shale, long missingÂ
their counterpart cadavers.Â
I cannotÂ
divine how you
braved the caustic swells,Â
and made your arrivalÂ
to the shadowedÂ
and hallowed enclave.Â
How many dimensionsÂ
of severance
are between us now?
There was onceÂ
the singularity
of your breath hot
 on my flushed skin.
There is now
the Boreal biteÂ
of gelid gusts of wind
whipping the currentsÂ
to an urgent precipitando.Â
My only wish
is that this lake
were the primordialÂ
River Styx.Â
For you,Â
I would takeÂ
the thankless place
of Charon-
I would toil
for all eternityÂ
to steer my boatÂ
to the fields
of Asphodel,Â
to see the silhouetteÂ
of your shade
one last time.Â