Mire
Published in
1 min readJan 13, 2018
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.