the river and i have known each other well,
current, storm and flood,
for as long as i can remember.
i’ve seen her sick with sewer ****
harsh run off,
flecks of foam.
wearing discarded tires,
shopping carts and beer cans
like bag lady jewelry.
she is grand and lovely.
i have stood knee deep in her swift waters,
clear and cold
watching gravel between my feet,
a constant dance of current
changing her endlessly.
she remains the same.
i have measured myself in her water.
testing my legs to stand against her push.
testing my arms to hold against her pull.
testing the quickness of eye,
my balance,
my memory.
she is a exacting lover,
precise,
thoughtless.
i have baited my line.
struggled from her,
held her,
one living piece at a time.
i have smelled her.
incense of river mud and holy decay.
washed her blessings from my skin,
knelt by her
and sought her omen.
i’ve seen her bloat,
rush angry through our green home,
dark, heavy, impenetrable.
huge, where hours before i could have entered her and crossed.
i have seen her shrivel from dry fear born of drought
and corrupt care,
revealing her bottomed secrets,
trash and simple pools of treasure.
i was born by her
a boy on her banks,
an adolescent in her grasp.
i grew like reeds as we were changed by flood,
wave and wind.
as married as i was to her,
i left and she continued her long flow.
i returned as summer called
to a warm autumn
and wet myself childlike
in her cool deep.
caught and consumed her flesh.
prayed beside her
for the miles we’d gone,
for the homes we lost,
for the people who passed through us.
prayed for the endless surprise of change.
i numbered in lists the garbage
spread along her abused shore
like scars on my arms
rips in my heart.
rusted pipe in mud flat stands
where heron fed.
old cans from weekend revelers shine in her sands.
bait boxes and bits of farm hardware,
rotted trees,
the high water waste of her flooded history.
yet still she is grand and lovely.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 4:35 AM UTC
the river and i have known each other well,
current, storm and flood,
for as long as i can remember.
i’ve seen her sick with sewer ****
harsh run off,
flecks of foam.
wearing discarded tires,
shopping carts and beer cans
like bag lady jewelry.
she is grand and lovely.
i have stood knee deep in her swift waters,
clear and cold
watching gravel between my feet,
a constant dance of current
changing her endlessly.
she remains the same.
i have measured myself in her water.
testing my legs to stand against her push.
testing my arms to hold against her pull.
testing the quickness of eye,
my balance,
my memory.
she is a exacting lover,
precise,
thoughtless.
i have baited my line.
struggled from her,
held her,
one living piece at a time.
i have smelled her.
incense of river mud and holy decay.
washed her blessings from my skin,
knelt by her
and sought her omen.
i’ve seen her bloat,
rush angry through our green home,
dark, heavy, impenetrable.
huge, where hours before i could have entered her and crossed.
i have seen her shrivel from dry fear born of drought
and corrupt care,
revealing her bottomed secrets,
trash and simple pools of treasure.
i was born by her
a boy on her banks,
an adolescent in her grasp.
i grew like reeds as we were changed by flood,
wave and wind.
as married as i was to her,
i left and she continued her long flow.
i returned as summer called
to a warm autumn
and wet myself childlike
in her cool deep.
caught and consumed her flesh.
prayed beside her
for the miles we’d gone,
for the homes we lost,
for the people who passed through us.
prayed for the endless surprise of change.
i numbered in lists the garbage
spread along her abused shore
like scars on my arms
rips in my heart.
rusted pipe in mud flat stands
where heron fed.
old cans from weekend revelers shine in her sands.
bait boxes and bits of farm hardware,
rotted trees,
the high water waste of her flooded history.
yet still she is grand and lovely.