I Leave the River Every Time

why I have let myself feed

off of anywhere other

than the steady sweet inside

of the river’s wrist

is beyond me

swallow me spring

if I do not prove too water

logged for the ram to carry me

(I worry)

(I worry about that)

do not let the sun stand

still ever again

I used to think      this earth is

not for me but           that was before

I got to this secret

pocket of a river

and put my head under

I haven’t been held this well

since well

well I don’t have much

to compare it to

how long could I bathe

before needing?

I have                  water

I could swallow guppies

my body would float

while I sleep

Kristi Stout is a writer based in Durham, NC. She was recently named a finalist for the Brooklyn Poets fellowship and is a co-founder of the Corcoran Poetry Wall project here in North Carolina. This is her first publication.