Immersion was a moment-

So, the waters still, and then they die.
I do not think that they care, they move without emotion,
the inanimate in this world do not feel.
I can beat against water,
slamming fist or open palm against
a pond, a puddle, a surface without substance,
there is no pain.
Liquid knows no tensile lasting,
it knows no burning,
it just moves.

Escape comes simply,
through evaporation, lifting,
scattering to particle and stratosphere,
through branch and fingers and grass and skin,
water lifts as if winged;
in the end we are all embalmed of moisture.

Without it, there are things that wither,
ground that splits and pales,
mouths left open,
spilling more of life onto busy city pavement.

She should have told me that her leaving
would bring the thirst.
Before she ran down rivulets, moving in glacial slowness
to meet the vast expanse of anonymity
known only and best
by those who seek her kind.




GLS
6.18.91