Across the Moei river,
The blessed take the bridge.
She’ll risk the crossing for taciturn men who promise gold.
Herded to a false Valhalla, crammed in a wait house
Reticent serfs loaded on a truck,
Dawn is a god dimming veil that separates worlds.
Stateless, nameless, bond-servants.
A Futile Love
The silliness of a gaze
Our servitude of thought
Letters never sent, desire unloved
A stillborn dove.
The limpness contained and locked away,
Daydream narrative, the pits.
A bag, heavy and too obvious
Pity for the awkward stage
The elephant man in assembly
Years and futures caught in nets
All fathers now and titles fixed
Fattened fish flapping on the deck
No more diving, in search of wrecks.
by Brian O'Callaghan