He senses danger and is gone,
the water bulging in his wake.
You needn't ever count upon
this sight again, and so should take
the memory and then move on...
You'll never know what rendezvous he'll break
with liquid arabesques, nor how he'll trawl
fresh eddys, find new shoals to dredge.
His underwater playgrounds call
within him, like a lover's pledge.
He'll wear the river like a shawl
in slicked-back freedom, near the water's edge.
Kevin Saving © 2006/2007
Kevin Saving is not at all proud of the fact that this poem won third prize in the 2006 National Poetry Competition; nor that it appeared both in Poetry Review and the Independent on Sunday, at the time.