Recovery

Grey stones

Skulls of the

Amnesiac river

That flows in

And out

Of begging mouths

The mind that walks

The limb that suspends

A step as brittle as skulls

We knew it had to be today

It’s not goodbye or acceptance

We’re only trying to recover

The river’s story

Its memories in the Gulf of Mexico

Its droplets of happiness

And sorrow coiled

On rooftops

Its burglaries around the banks

We must do it