in a mind
— john mateer
He didn’t describe the poem he wrote while sailing down the Mekong River
when he’d had in mind the fidelity of our epic poet whose drowned beloved
filled a sonnet with that mother absented by the Virgin’s image.
Now I’m seeing the bedraggled corpse floating face-down in a long clairvoyant mirror,
and I’m composing the poem he scribbled in sporadic recollection.
Years ago I read that sonnet and was also our poet saved from the waves by Á-Mà.