Walk on Water

Published in Volume 56 of Progenitor.

I shed my sunburnt skin;
make plans to take up residency,
learn how to talk back with a mouthful of seafoam.

There is history buried under this land
in bones and teeth and seeds.

Here you can walk
– not on water –
but on the ground where rivers used to run.

Nothing prepared us for the sky-bruising;
not all those years in the lungs of it.

When the clouds turn red it means
wrap a damp cloth over your mouth and nose.

You’ll know by the texture of the air.