Fertile Ground

Slide on the bubbles of dew
when the sun is unblinking for

hours while we wait: wet and
hungry and breathing fire.

Light travels in waves and we
can see the fish consume it

as it surges to where we stand.
Can you jump over the wisps

before they catch you and eat
you whole? Our coxswain recedes

with sweat on his brow, oars
dip burnt stubs to a bed of

bonemeal and blonde relics:
it’s exhausting to watch.

One thought on “Fertile Ground

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