Moonlight Rivers

I found a picture of a girl
in black and white
naked
thin
crouched on a rock, water
wooshing all around her.

Her hands pray
in front of her knees
white knee caps
like boney skull eyes
almost no breasts, you can tell.

Her cheek bone, cheek, sunken
like an anorexic
or a water sprite.
Something not quite human.

She affects me.
I should write something
instead I flick another game of solitaire
over her face, over all of her -
re-deal
begin again.

But the image doesn't leave.
I focus on the cards to block her out
but I know
she's me.

Crouched in the slipstream
not quite sure if I'm real
or starving
and too afraid to say

'I love you'

because to say makes it real
and that will mean moving
from my rock

loosing my arms from around my knees
and exposing my breastless chest
and the hole in my belly where
starlight falls.

If I deal just one more game
the cards might turn in my favour
but they stop falling into place before
I can get them squared away
in tidy piles.

I could say 'I love you'
but I don't know if it's true
and if it isn't
I'll slip from my rock
and the moonfish
will swallow me.