When all this speaking into being is done

I will show you a river in which men will,
          when looking for strange metal, 
                     find only other rivers.

Will have found reason again to unstitch
          all matter and cast what’s left
                      as sand to oceans.

Will have emptied myself of all noise,
         and stood silent, as polished
                  bones and breath alone.

Will come, femur deep in slow waters
         clacking metacarpals curled,
                 supplicating, then still.

Will break-connectives disassembling,
           collapse absent of all cohesion,
                  sink, having given up all grammar

and will be again a river,
             full only,

                 of other flooded rivers.

5 thoughts on “When all this speaking into being is done”

      1. Hah! Thanks j.h. I didn’t write this intentionally for the verse novel but it seems to want to make a place for itself there.

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