thick water

wake to the water turning slowly west for at least

a while on it's tips--edges do lean away,

then turn around. i was born from water people

who had given me coral to be salmon in

my head; they made pictures of waterways to be

heavy. after awhile, the waterway brings

you in, feeds you a small, particular dinner, and

tells you the stories of breathing wood chips

and baritones from the porches that watch the

waterways--the porches watch them to

see they're watching you--see you feel the sick

that even nostalgia has for the patience

of a bay in waiting to turn around, waiting to

take it's hand out from it's pockets.