Untitled

We look up
through the ice. Day is
fading up there
and you look at me
sternly
and serious
as if to say

what do we do

and I think to myself
that's so you
to be more concerned
that night is coming
than the fact that you're under the ice
at the mouth of the river
with me
and not too much of an idea
of how we got here
fully dressed
and facing each other
my hair fanned out, and in slow motion
as pretty as its ever been

I oblige you
and pull you by the hand
to the edge of the nearest hole
up you go
and I see you see
the thin barrier island
at dusk now
the small lighthouse at its tip
flashing green
which is unusual
and towards it
red and blue flashings
of three police cars
going fast, we know
but they seem slow
from this vantage
its so easy
to be unmoved
by their urgency
from way out here

I'm in love with you
you know
but let's tread here
its fine here
somehow
and the pretty lighthouse
speaks all

warning
and
danger
and also
come here
and
witness
and
safe here
and
go
and
come
and

go.