Four feet
from a flooded river’s
fierce flow, my toes
numbed by snow passed on—
and ****** about it—
numbed by the roar,
rushing, fighting,
at civil war with
everything you know
a raging river should be,
it got so caught up in its fuss
it challenged the fusion of the sun:

you stand so far away
yellow dot, why not come
and burn this boy, my
ragdoll toy? Stop scratching
at the surface of his skin, coward
come closer, come stay.
I’m only inches from sweeping
him to oblivion

Unaware was the sun to come
and play, she would melt away
a second time, then mist, the boy
as well; both to boil, until their bits,
indistinguishable,  joined the sun
in oblivion.