so i guess this is where we’re at.
i’ve stretched your fingers apart for miles
trying to see what rivers flow through them
but instead all that exists in those spaces
you can’t catch water
with gaps like yours.
i’ve followed the lines on your palm
like traplines looking for something
that i’m not even sure exists
but maybe if i follow these trails on your skin close enough
i’ll find what i’m looking for.
be careful when you set a snare.
be careful not to catch yourself.
i’ve tried to convince myself
that maybe something could grow
in your slash and burn forests
but the only thing that grows after a fire
and i can’t tell if it’s beautiful or nuisance.
if you drive the mining roads of the Sukunka
maybe there’s beauty in this limbo –
there’s some life between your fingers
that i don’t need to cultivate
maybe there’s closure in knowing
that you can’t catch rivers.
but i can.