River Expeditions

The rocks are slimy beneath our toes

as we wobble one to the next,

brown water weaving past us,

its green filth clouding the current

so the ick we traverse is

a slippery mystery.


a crunch

beneath my foot–

the lifeless, hollow husk

of a little crawfish down there,

or worse yet:

I am the death of one.

A squeal erupts from my lips,

my other foot slides loose,

and I fall,

flail a little, too,

and plummet into the murky river.

As I rediscover air

with coughing, sputtering breaths

laughter echoes ahead and

I swim now,

and hoist myself

atop a dry rock left here in the middle

by giants playing catch.

I scrape the green from my skin

and lay in golden rays of sunlight

listening to the river rush

beside me.


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