Morning Run

I
They say that the human body
is sixty percent water. And I believe them.
I’ve always known it.
I have felt the water balancing in my stomach
like a bubble level, when I weep
it rises to my throat.
I’ve heard it too, rippling
inside of my restless vessel
be it not as alive as I feel it now, here
running the last lap over the bridge
its strong legs deep in the blue,
feet thump thumping the asphalt
heart throb thudding against its walls;
the clangor of reinforced steel-
and the sea rising and falling within me.
Water recognizing its own.

II
It must have a field of its own-
pulling back waves in its fold,
devouring rivers,
even a tear pulls its weight.
For now we’re moored here.
Eventually perhaps we will all collapse into water?
And if that is true, then there must be peace
for all lost things somewhere
in the center of the storm, then
there must be hope for us all.

.

.

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FOOTNOTE: Rode up to the creek yesterday and completed a poem. How was your weekend?

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