Memory, since the day you drowned, I am water.
I wash over you. In your name, I am blue.
Let me rise and subside along the canal of your spine
charged with blue
like the nighttime pulse that snags blue branches
audible from your canoe.

I scoop you, I glide drowsy
under the surge,
along the bluish parameters.
I limn your body as I would lay mine
along the blue haunches of river,
as currents do in their habit.

I will pour a jug, blue now to brimming.
I will plunge through silt for you, blood coursing,
where I see nothing detained
but a riot of flurries.

I am the blue charger that wants to replenish you,
carouse you to rapture,
flay you to seethe
under water’s strayed skin,
my blued lips draining yours.

Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 14, Issue 1.