Low Tide (Written June 22, 2018)

Low Tide

The tide is out by the time we get there.
Rocks
line the riverbed, along both sides.
The banks of mud are almost vertical,

Where the water has washed away
all resistance,
in its rush to the sea, and only the grass,
on top of the mud, holds firm. In the middle,
where there is still some standing water,

It is no deeper than two or three feet.
Leviathan,
sea monster, lies with its belly cut open,
the same way a snake, a python,
must be cut open when it swallows

A human being whole, and becomes
so heavy,
so tied down, it cannot save itself
from a slow death. Cut open, turned
inside out, the belly of the river

Displays the intestines, sculpted
by the sea
as it sucks the water to itself,
leaving an emptiness, as the heart
feels empty when hope slips away,

Betrayed by gravity. The seagulls,
the herons,
the eagles too, what is there for them
to do, but wait for the tide to turn.

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