son of water
the son of water's greatest silhouette
wraps around nothing like a nailed down shadow
flailing in a hollow hurricane
by the year of the drunken monkey
he will bring nimbus and fragrant bags of rose hips
the most exotic influences from all over the earth
to show us what we're worth
wearing some newly lionized kimono
and a necklace made of heartbreak
he will call upon the juniper and mandolins
as softly as a hero can
and when his feral song begins
with the liturgy of raindrops and people
empty their flasks to catch pieces
of this horizon, he
the son of water will turn
to ice, like an anchor against
the sea's quarantine
(a shadow no more)