The Ducks on the Hoi An River

drift on the slow currents

plucking insects
from the shallow reeds—

floating so gently
on the river's rippling surface—

Oh, how I wish

I could glide so lightly
on the water,

and then dive down,
down, down—

almost 50 years now

since mortars fell here
and green tracers

tore thru men
hiding in the reeds—

beneath the surface,

silver minnows
flash and flicker—

tiny fish
so like the ones

I caught for bait as a boy—
and so, so many,
undulating their little bodies

through the thick, green water—
a flicker, a flash, and gone—

why am I here?—
what did I come for?—

ducks gliding
on a rippled mirror—

silver flashes
flickering

in and out of the light—
swimming so fast, so fast

and then gone—
my old/young face

dimming

in the slow ripples—
the failing light—

in the night rising—
in what

I've come to be—

—rg cantalupo