Song of Water
 

Scorpio moon is an oracle.
We reach into the black
outline of basalt.
Flood waters trail our ankles.
It is October and we are new
season, children of honey
and wish. Our hands are twigs.
Our eyes, pieces of obsidian,
stare out onto the body.
We are orphans here.
What came before us, those
Seven Seas, collapsed stone,
have vanished into the fold.
I turn my face away from
recognition. The air is chill
and sea spray. The motion
rattles wind chimes, collects
our winding clocks, dislodges
the roots. I take your hands,
with their disappointments and
executions, and pour from
them the deep waters.  

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Aleah Sato is the author of the poetry collection Badlands and the forthcoming Stillborn Wilderness (Pooka Press 2007). Her work has appeared in Nthposition, Adirondack Review, juked, Argotist, Just West of Athens, Blue Fifth Review, Shadowtrain and Eclectica, among others. This past August, her collaboration with photographer Elizabeth Siegfried, entitled Extinct, was shown at the G+ Galleries in Toronto. She can be reached through her website: www.aleahsato.com.
 

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