Christina Rizzo

Brink

Oh, borrowed, waited for. 
About this particular icicle I would say

not much. To hear a song discernible 
from the wind. To be that much and no more.

To give myself to myself
and not run out of reasons. 

Away from you I'm familiar to everything,
even the seafloor. I polish giant mirrors

and watch them slip away. 
At night I sing the river the same songs.

I wink to the north, I wink to the west
and wonder where you are. I've never

heard a cloud cry out, but I can imagine it. 
Your echo and your picture match,

the ceiling keeps gasping at me.
I lie open and untarnished. 

I've waited all day to send this message.
To search for a shock, to miss out on you.

To make my legs the same size as yours.
To still send you this, to know where to go from here.



Christina Rizzo is the author of the chapbook  No Such Person is Likely To Appear, 
forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in summer '08.  She received her MFA from 
Bennington College and currently lives and writes in Cambridge, Massachusetts.