like water—what it was—to enter—unprepared—the tide moves left—there is nothing to bring to it—I could not gather your things—some things broke instead—a phone crushed in your hand—we are always found holding—the body changes the water that holds it—the waters spill out and drown into what we call river—I once was standing next to you—not preparing for another posture—my feet in contact with the ground—now I am all emergence—I am untucked—the suck and swallow of this that I am in—I climbed a tree with you three days ago—I was all knees—it was all arms—you unfolded where it unfolded—now you are the drawing based on skeletal models—the branches in directions they couldn’t exist—this is how it is in the mind—we draw unsteady things—the desire I have for clay beneath my feet—as if I could draw you up from the riverbed—as it you were ever vessel—the clay vase our mother shattered—the current is never ours
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 22, Issue 1.
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