NOT KILIMANJARO

 

 

We sat together on that nameless pier,

the boards scaffolding us

over, or perhaps into,

African varieties of oblivion –

 

Curious linkings of longing &

certain death – Hemingway’s

gangrenous ambitions,

the mountains taunting us

with impossibility –

 

The lake an unclosing eye – color

Blue, as if that were,

or we were,

simply a coincidence

or an echo of our own infinities.

 

 

Susan Smith Nash