Desert

.
I wake sometimes at night, mouth

dry as the bottom of a cast iron skillet
in equatorial sun thinking, water!
imagining its absolute absence

yesterday on the iron bridge
I stopped dead center, leaned
and watched the slow river wrap itself
around a rock as rivers do, embracing 
the stubborn thing with eddies and waves
as it fell, pulled forward by its own weight
caressing, kissing, never stopping,
touching with its passing, keeping ,
staying for a moment in a backwash,
still almost, in a pool—

letting go

I wake at night mouth dry
as the bottom of a cast iron skillet
in equatorial sun thinking

water/you!

.
Jim Culleny

9/28/17