Monday, September 26, 2011


The Place I Will Be When I Die

The creek
Ran down to the Olentangy
I suppose
Miles away

The trees were young
In the bed
I can see the shiny bark

The sun filtered through
But the creek
Ran between cool treed hillsides

The hill on one side
Rose from creek side
Up to where the dead abandoned sheep
Moved back into the earth

The hill on the other
Rose slow
To just as high
Then a fence
Soy beans, corn or wheat or resting

I built dams

The air
Of nakedness
Before erections
Before shame

I could run
Jiggle my hips
And breasts
In a dance that was only mine

I needed a pool
To ask the water
To wait
For me
To have a place
To be

Languorously in the pool

The water cold
On my bare skin

Enough to
Pretend the shifting of shapes

Enough to
Become who I was
Not who I appeared to be
Was supposed to be

When the end
Comes to me

You don’t have to do a thing

I will be there
The creek
Running to the Olentangy

My place to
Move back into the earth

Shifting shape again

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