You are the mirror into which we plunge. – Terry Wolverton

Here at the border, the river
runs clear. We can see our faces
as they ripple in the sun,
our bodies so thin
they’ve nearly disappeared.
We are falling from a great height.
We have left the night behind,
stars spilling across the sky,
trailing as we hurtle down the great hill.
Guard dogs snap at us and growl.
We run, terrified of teeth and chains.
A girl sobs as her brother stumbles in the brush,
his face visible for an instant, as light shreds our eyes to dust.

Image credit:Roi Dimor/Unsplash

I live in the Berkshires in Massachusetts, retired from a University teaching job in Minnesota. My poems have appeared widely, mostly online, in journals based in the U.S. and abroad. Several have been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net. I have published thirteen poetry collections, the most recent of which are A Landscape in Hell, Why Glass Shatters, and o filho da bebedora de cafe (The Coffee Drinker’s Son), translated into Portuguese by Francisco Jose Craveiro de Carvalho.