Seeing from the banks
or buttressed highway the churn
and throb
of this river, it is hard not to think that
should I fall or jump into
its motion it would never know that
I would die
because beneath the rushing glass
it is quiet.
In this
there is some unsettling thing
that urges me to speak and be
spoken to. I turn
away.
This one is dark and foreboding. . .gives me the chills. No water for you!