after Marni Ludwig




I dreamed I waded at the brim
of a major river from which they pulled
a body, stiffly, up with a claw. I was afraid
to fish the water. I was afraid of the shifting figures
that stubbornly did so, and of my reflection
trimmed by an invisible sun,
threatened by it.

An insect showers with me, and another
follows me to my sheets. I feel I want to die
in silt, for recklessness. Turn over the river: scales
parting, new surfaces turned not hot enough
for me to take my hands off them.