West River

A wounded giant crawled here to die.

its tears filled this river above the brim,

submerging the supports of a long gone bridge.

I am at the bottom of a bowl,

filled with clear liquid.

I look up, straining to see the top of the water

lapping at the noses of these great pillars,

trying to touch the sky.

3 thoughts on “West River

  1. Nice way to mix things up with your posts. This poem continues some of the themes you’ve explored earlier in the summer. Namely, the ways in which you depict Nature by referencing humans in both physical and emotional ways. I’m curious about the narrator of this poem. Should I read the “I” as YOU or is the narrator somehow beneath the water (like a fish)?

    1. It’s a terrifying feeling, sort of what is being explored in the open boat and to make a fire. Nature doesn’t care. it’s cold and hard like granite.

  2. I really was inspired by the fact that when hurricane Irene came through there, It flooded so high. I was imagining myself walking underneath all of that, watching the sky through this terrible event. I feel the same way when I’m in the sierras, seeing all of the landscape being contoured by those glaciers so long ago. I think, what if I went back in time and got crushed underneath tons and tons of ice above me?

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