Moving Waters

Moving waters scour off my absurd
And point me, fish-like, into their flows.

I sumo-wrestle for balance in them,
Thick muscled currents whose hissing static
Drowns out distractions.
And deaf and teetering, I find poise.

Their intervals of stillness are dreamless sleep,
My limpid wallow.
But I wake when they rouse
And breach or leach back into motion.

Salt waters churn in place.
Waves of featureless uniqueness
That plunge back onto land
In mourning for river’s end.

I cling to sand strips
Glimpsing brackish afterbirth
As the salt foam flicker shifts
Into the rain and rivulets
That will again course through me.