photo by defpoe, copyright 2018

Mire

half in/half out

of the river. i learned to

swim with a reed slipping

out of my hand.

feet kicking near the bank.

some robins perched on a maple,

eyeing the poor scene.

my lungs filled with water.

cold. muddy from my disturbance.

i could taste the silt.

even at a young age

i knew i could either stay

clinging to the reed — itself nearly rootless

or let go, let the river take me

down its gullet,

half in/half out.