The rivers came rushing in
on a lovely, lonely night
down each hollow of my shoulders:
dying me blue, where wildness swims.
I felt that
a cold rush from the outside
taking ahold, syntax altered in waves:
words taking shapes that bump each other.
Tell me, how do I ungaze?
my words are tangled, I am heavy
tired of seeing the faces of many
short lived places.
They won’t wash:
the wildness splashes at my belly
their kindness drips all over me;
I wish they weren’t blue.