Impressions of a River
We walked on a sandbar
stepped where a blue heron stepped
the four lines where its foot fell
pressed into crackles by our weight.
We found warm shallows
where life abounded
mollusks the size of our palms
had pulled themselves across the floor
doodling blind, directionless lines
searching for I do not know what
We found a gar
dried to leather
black as driftwood in the moist sunshine
sunken eyes like leather coins
expressionless, shriveling down
to its primeval skull.
We found wet clay
as deep as our knees
We mired ourselves on purpose
and struggled back out again
Pretending we were dinosaurs
Or maybe the making
of some new fossil
Everything on the riverbank leaves a trace
Every path is printed
That is until
the water rises, falls
and refreshes itself.
Each rainfall rinsing
the palette clean.
Fresh Hell 