My Urban (pt 2)

Amazing how a river can hold up

An entire town with its soft calling turns,

In those patient lapses between

The long miseries of drought

and the hasty electricity of flood.


This town,

Anonymous lines,

Maps of hope and glee

All folded into once brightly colored boxes.

Now, the intricate creases of lives unwound,

Pressed by the tales of neighbors

On a winter night suddenly come early

And sharpened by rain

At the far side of a dead end court.


The long river, now purposed by rain,

Flows through my hands,

Fingers touching current,

Holding it like a breath.


The sound of water is everywhere.

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