High flows spread like anger
against the bank then up and over
taking down fences.
Scour down to hardpan.
Brutal energy, this season,
we cannot gauge this havoc,
the power to hurt.
I want to tell you this cool rush
of my skin grows from the flood
of river veins, my river, my veins.
Don’t ask me to come into
your eddying heart space
I can’t find the entrance, choked
with logjams too entrenched
to let the current of forgiveness pass
evenly into deep and quiet waters.
