OK, thank you again.
I'm just going to do one last poem.
It's called, "I Told the Water."
"I Told the Water."
"I told the water, you're right, the dead
are broken sidewalks we try to avoid.
Told it, the map of you folds into corners small enough
to swallow.
I told the water, you only exist because of thirst,
beside your glistening membrane I lie face down in dirt.
The first time my father threw me into you,
I was hieroglyph-- a wet braid caught in your throat.
I knew then how war was possible-- the urge
to defy gravity, to disarm another.
I knew then I would live to be your mirror,
you graveyard of windows, you black eyed barnacle.
I told the water, last night I walked out onto the ice
wearing only skin, because you didn't tell me not to."
Thanks, y'all.