over reflection's widening shoals
a mock-rivulet
of memory frets,
trickling
out like tiny drops of coconut oil
dropping from careworn hands
fingering unbraided hair,
glistening
for a moment like silver
drops of splurging water titillated
by the diurnal romance
of a wet dark veil of hair,
vaporizing
as the translucent irony
the afternoon sun beckons.
