River Body Identified
When I consider the river I see only myself  
                  stretched across the muddy floor, the horizon  
a pink curtain I can’t yank. Reeds 
                 bristle the bank like wild-haired children 
buried to their necks. Dragged, I’ll yield 
                secrets: hypodermics, sunken  
backseats of cars, black garbage bags  
                wound with cord, knives, an iron  
stove, mirror glass, annular humps 
                of tires. Swollen, I purl under the ribbed 
cages linking flank to flank. The sun finds me bound 
                for the salt wedge, licks another body’s cycle, a path- 
ologist’s debate: what time? cause?  Too late. 
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