Monday Poem

Desert

I wake sometimes at night, mouth
dry as the bottom of a cast iron skillet
in equatorial sun thinking, water!
imagining its absolute absence

yesterday on the iron bridge
I stopped dead center, leaned
and watched the slow river wrap itself
around a rock as rivers do, embracing 
the stubborn thing with eddies and waves
as it fell, pulled forward by its own weight
caressing, kissing, never stopping, touching 
with its passing, keeping, staying
for a moment in a backwash, in a pool—

letting go

I wake at night mouth dry
as the bottom of a cast iron skillet
in equatorial sun thinking,
water/you!
..
Jim Culleny
9/28/17

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