The river is flowing
like a haiku
from the
tragic
gaping
mouths of glaciers.
I run the whitewater
slosh softly over the haystacks
like my boat has supple hips
and this is flamenco.
I didn’t know I would need to be baptized
this many times
in such rapid succession
for my tiny sins against
grass
the heaving wings of birds
God.
So I run the river
to make up
for everything I never knew would come.
Someone said
we are born to the rhythm
but water is mayhem
the beating drums of bliss
a thousand thirsts gulping prayers
like open hands.
[river runner hoop earrings ::: all sterling]