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.