Portrait of A River

Noon burns on

A river

Black as oil.

The smacks mauve

In color.

The rusts climb
Persistent,
Barnacles
On each of
The boats' sides
Easily
As if it's
Quite proper
To go forth,
Multiply,
Gnaw away
The iron.

And inside
Light transits
Some people
Gaze at clouds,
The outlines
Of cities
Growing old
And modern,
At the sea
Shimmering
Pellucid
And distant.

But no one
Dare look at
The river.