Crying My Rivers

The river cries through me now;
snail shell tears carved with limestone
as I remember the first time
you reached for my hand
over a babbling brook
while the river raged
far away — somehow knowing.
She wants her bone bivalve bracelets
back, now, and your fingernails.

(for dVerse over here: https://dversepoets.com/2017/03/21/poetics-the-river/)

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