a river in my hands

Rattling around…
rattling around…
somewhere in my head this
sound is rattling,
breathing, like
a living thing….

This sound, breathing
murmuring…
living river,
which tumbles rocks,
carries white, rising foam
and eager swimmers

This river full,
life, verdant, green roots
grasses on the bank,
the slippering, long, thick
fish
wriggling into the muck,
riding the curves, the…

Water flowing, veins
of blood, of water,
coursing through wanton
beating, raging
heart,
this primal ride,
the murmur rising
to scream
raging, carving deeper channels,
the whipping water

Coursing through my body,
this power raging,
working hands, lips
mouth
these words rising,
touching anything I touch,
this river raging,
touching
river of words,
of song

Washing over me,
over us

We drink,
deep down, gasping
gulping
words like water
surging… my fingers touching…

Your eyes wide,
urging.

This river,
this pen,
this holy river.

Roaring.

2 thoughts on “a river in my hands

  1. I love how you weave nature-scapes into passion and desire. Toward the end of this poem, I was remembering the line from Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” – “And remember when I moved in you
    the holy dove was moving too
    And every breath we drew was Hallelujah”

    Now I must go listen to that song.

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