swimming in the Acheron river

After the Acheron

We left the river dazed
and tired from swimming, clambering, slipping.
The rain started. Almost exactly 5pm, Akis was right.
Already soaked from mythical waters,
we walked happily back to the car
where we stripped off and put our dry clothes on,
too spaced out to really care who saw us.

We opened the crisps as we set off,
still hoping to picnic, but the rain
got heavier, thunder rolled, 
the gods were waking up.

We pulled into a layby and grabbed
sandwiches from the picnic bag.
Stood in the rain by the pale aqua river,
opposite a half-finished villa,
glassless windows watching, patient as a skull.

My bare feet were gritty on the wet roadside
but I was so happy it didn't matter,
and neither did my bruises
from being caught in the current 
on the rocks.

I opened a beer. The rain got harder,
lightning flashed across the sky.
We couldn't stop talking
about where we'd been, what
we'd done, we couldn't stop smiling.
swimming in the Acheron river
Image | @wildearts

First Published in Wild Roof Journal | Issue 27 FALL Edition.


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