[
{
"name": "Top Stories Video Pair",
"insertPoint": "7",
"component": "17087298",
"parentWrapperClass": "fdn-ads-inline-content-block",
"requiredCountToDisplay": "1"
}
]
I thought: it's only brown water,
a hand, fluid, reaching to me.
No, it is bruised clouds, a hungry mountain,
the dying away of snow.
I wade the shallows-limbs
of trees float past and fur clotted
with leaves, debris, all swept away.
Balmy night, wet to thighs.
Then in deepening loss, a shoe
full of mud, rain, tiny fish.
more from the author
-
Sonido de la Luz
- Jan 23, 2014
-
If I Could See the End Coming
- Jan 3, 2013
-
A Possibly True Story
Once there was a woman speaking poems, whispering...
- Jul 26, 2012
- More »
