घुड़सवार

Gnashing. It beats on my ankles. I have

Come to the river to cross it. Sometimes

When I was younger, it would be slow

Enough for me to walk in, shallow

Enough for me to compliment it in exchange

For a low tide. Here rain is like a manipulative

Lover; Its attention both gives and erodes life.

The water is capped with blood. My head dips

Below the surface, I see the earth ripping from

Itself. I see something drifting away; my body

Falling just as everything returns

To peace.