Hobble Creek Review
Assimilation
Plum-gray clouds backlit
by the brass of an invisible sun
welcome the Z-shaped streak
that blurs like wet chalk
into cobblestone puffs
until you wonder
if it was ever jet exhaust,
unlike the white stain
of a Styrofoam cup between
the wild mustard and lupine.
Forest Falls
Water has a million voices
falling like gravity;
each drop has a say in the sound
of seeking lower places.
My ears can’t separate
their chorus into tongues
though I imagine them
in the shallows, gossiping.
As I lean against this granite
smoothed by watery hands,
I listen to the one voice
cascading downwards
made of many voices
wishing to be heard.
If I could meld with water
would I still hear
the separate conversations,
the compromises,
the protests of portions stranded
in mosquito pools?
Or would the common sound
so overwhelm me
I might never hear
my own voice
spill over stone?

C.E. Chaffin, M. D. FAAFP, edited and published The Melic Review for
eight years prior to its hiatus. Widely published on the net and in print, he
has written literary criticism, fiction, personal essays, and has been the
featured poet in over twenty magazines. Credits include: The Alaska
Quarterly Review, Byline, and The Cortland Review.