drawing down

 the invitation today- to write a poem about an emotional state without mentioning that emotional state or feelings at all

 Drawing down


the water is suddenly gone

where there were wood ducks and mallards

yesterday, reflections of spring on the glass,

now this stark cavity of  mud


Searching the breach, he staggers

helpless to staunch the flow, his gallons

pour into those lowlands, and into that scandalized

vortex, I’m drawn


 where yesterday he was rowing his boat

suddenly he’s scraping bottom

that swift current carving its way,

through those layers of silt laden years,

the contours of bottom, revealed


Gingerly, I walk next to him,

as his boots get sucked into muck, til

upon our bellies we lie, pulling his feet

free, though surprising, his strength exceeds mine

(Is this what they mean by bootstraps?)


On a day when summer first hinted, he

made his way up

toward the mouth

where the water lay stagnant and laden

stranded so long from its source


and there, poking their tentative dark heads,

shy, but protected, they came, dragging

new, hardened shells in the balance.


It was then that my gaze was lifted,

and i noticed

 the water was rising again.









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