Waterlogged

We were throwing books in the river my Grandmother and I
in New Hampshire off a wooden bridge not quite Monet’s
surrounded by neighbors, hunters, schoolteachers
that girl from English class in high school Alicia though
I hadn’t seen her since graduation four years ago

I tossed in Kerouac’s On the Road and the irony wasn’t lost
as it floated raft-like downstream – the only book I could never
finish because it was about travel and everyone drove in circles
She threw in 1984 maybe it was Fahrenheit 451 – something
with a number at any rate something political and as
we watched them gather around stone or drift onward like lily pads
the woman on my right a Hemingway caster confessed

I hope someone is there collecting them on the other side before trout
Originally from Jupiter,
Florida, Alexandra Gold has been living in Philadelphia for several years as a
student at the University of Pennsylvania where she is currently pursuing a
Master’s degree in English Literature. Her poem “Water, Communion” previously
appeared in the Winter 2009/2010 Issue of Philadelphia Stories, leading her to
believe there is truly, as they say, “something in the water.”

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