If This Reservoir Could Talk

no turning back
I clear my throat

to drown rumors of no Lefthand Run
Creek on this map

in February the robots don’t need
as much room to dance

not if / when
I wait for the Mississippi

to reply / do the math
1 billion gallons in my belly

71% blanketing the Earth’s skin
you and you / 60% river

and me and vast oceans
of relative blood memory

decommissioned in 1993
I am laughing

as geese and herons
and ruddy ducks tickle

my murmuring meniscus
limned at the edge

of civil twilight
when it’s time to go

to the cold room
I will be ready

salt brushed off / fountain turned on
chain-link cloak long gone

hands spoken for
by the owl

in its winter diorama
everything cardboard

touched by moonlight
what can be seen inside

the hollow of a wolf tree
remains a secret / next / I scream

there is more
than one cure

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