The Wing Dam by Paul Ilechko

Upstream from the wing dam
all is calm, all is placid.
Ducks and geese abound, perched on the rocks
that dot the shallows, bobbing for fish
in the deeper waters.

Downstream, though, is a seething torrent,
vastly alive, where the river
rips through the narrow straits
between the dam itself
and surrounding rocky outcrops.

Downstream, too, the land
climbs sharply. Fall colors already glowing
on the flanks, a brilliant backdrop
to the ghastly, ghostly monochrome
of the river.

The dam curves south, widening
at its tip, and here is where the fishermen
work the stream, moving side to side,
searching for the perfect spot
where tides and eddies coalesce. 

As shadows stretch out
under the fading evening light,
teenagers appear, clustering
beneath the dead white skeletons of washed up trees
to smoke, relaxing into their freedom.

And now, the sun begins to set
behind the hills of the western shore.
The clouds begin their pilgrimage from white to pink;
the river darkens and thickens,
turning itself from water into wine.



Paul Ilechko has always lived by a river, although he sometimes dreams of forests and mountains. He currently lives in Lambertville, NJ with his girlfriend and a cat. Paul has had poetry accepted / published recently by Oberon Magazine, Dash Literary Journal, Stickman Review, MockingHeart Review and Saint Katherine Review, among others.