Un-undead The patient ground was ready to be changed again by rain that fell so fast it hadn’t a chance to map a course, so it explored. Reflecting rivulets forked before headlights like lightening. I imagined the Schuylkill river when it was young, perhaps like this, before it steadily dug its bed. Crossing the bridge at 30th street, the river runs under me, now straight and silted, its cleared way set by the city around it. Somewhere, around a bend, I imagine it wild, faced again with the constraints that free us.
Edward Lees is an American who lives in London. During the day he works to help the environment and in the evenings he writes poetry if his daughters permit it.
Amethyst Review 