Lethe

 whiskey riptides

roar through sleepless nights.

flowers on the bank

radiate the ripe perfume

of a woman once known and

loved. childhood runs

free, just beyond grasp,

among the countless days and data,

dancing past outstretched arms.

souls cry

but have lost the reason,

while others seek some chip

to barter for a release

from their own wretched past.

there is a lake where the river starts,

a source to all of this.

many have been there,

        but none can give directions.

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- November, 2018)

This poem is similar stylistically and thematically to "Cocytus." In this case, Lethe is the river of forgetfulness. There's a balance here of souls looking for ways to forget their actions in life and others who lament drinking. I might revisit this one day in a more modern style; this has potential.