flooded fields and berries
dripping down
to kiss the water
sneaking a moment of sun
in the straw
the man would want me
behind the computer still
breaking my hands
not hearing the joyous singing
coming from someone across
the river, kid counting off random
numbers to the bog water & dead
trees as family sits around smiling
at him, a girl’s voice answering
from the bog, dog bark,
frog jumping out of the moss

my hands like stories, like mud
where trees grow
god you are a crow
what’s going on crow?
you go through the leaves
of the trees, thru rain,
thru rooftops. Black god,
rain breath