Symptoms Diluvial

Inside, the melancholy mixed vertically
at first before settling lifelessly
onto the shelves and into the drawers
of old oak.  He stepped
into the quietude of that post-
tumultuous air, his arms still
quivering, goose-pimpled.
Dawn, he thought, will soon
come, his eyes wet from night. Soon,

he repeated aloud and growing
louder, there will be the warmth
of her hair around my neck
and something of a closeness.
And he waited, akimbo in the center
of the night, to feel the orange
pulse of her heart upon his closed
eyelids, to smell the dew
and fluttering birds, the nodding
amaranths, quickening with her

breath.  He stood, the center
of some unforeseen galaxy, the darkness
rotating around him, rotating him
around, pulling him toward
the flood.  Opening his eyes,
the water poured in, clear and filling
him, and he watched the geese
fly overhead in concert. Yellow washed
into the bowl as, spreading his arms,
the water carried him winding away.