Life Continued by Kristian Butterfield

The surface of a wide river is a cracked door, an open mirror.
Didn’t you see it down there for a moment? Back there,

when we stepped onto the draw bridge, right before 
the vines unabandoning the watchtower. Back there,

in the gap of the beams underneath State St. I saw,
roughly, the shapes of our bodies, or at least, 

I was reminded of our presence. I far prefer that,
I think, to the underside of the surface, refractions 

dancing across more complicated artworks:
two missed calls, shade half pulled, puzzle unfinished,

   shadows of streetlights droning silently across you,
      scanning the cab for placement,

      the decision to submerge and disappear into the pool, 
         sunlight lines unquenching you in ribbon,

the choice, then, to move and reintroduce yourself to the world,
gasping quietly for air, dripping muted sky from your jawline.

Kristian Butterfield is an emerging poet from Tampa, FL. His work appears in Door is a Jar, Book of Matches, The Owl, and elsewhere. Kristian is the winner of the 2016 Florida Voices Writing Contest for Poetry. He currently resides in Chicago, IL.