an etude to the rising current

GRIFFIN PLAAG

bloodied and eclipsed, i am

the eddied river cuts its path across the antique sand. sky,

do not be ornery:

i know you swallow bile

and sink the sepulchre

at dusk. i know you watch the

river and laugh. i am not your

friend, please know –

the crimson wing ensconced in hoary feather

means more than watching; the weird glass corticate

and seasnake pith

might not

contain

you

the shell sounds of chalk.

the limestone marker has weathered, and needs

a good washing. i like to listen

to the river as we flow and whorl and trumpet

her ovate din. i am not your

master, but the grainy millstone begs

a clean nose. the lichened walls have cloaked the river

for centuries. i think we built them.