A river, green light – surface-welded –
slides, sways wide and cool away from them.
From the East bank above cutwater and pier,
the arc of the bridge darker. Above the flat road
silk of red sun settled in blue muslin.
A brother
says nothing to his sister, sings the first phrase
of a round they both know, then the second, the third,
begins again.
Dona nobis Pacem.
She enters her voice after his voice this time.
Her brother’s song, her song, the bridge at dusk.
