She watched the borrowing. It was a great and the night-lost soared above. No one was around to put her in the heavies. Until she began to double-swallow. Soon, it was too many. Too many words. Too many wordings. Too much to hold in. Capillaries popped. The curled, uncurled, and then curdled. She tried to run from the docking of light, and put her belly down, down on the shore. But realized she was on it.
it wasn’t something learned
or borrowed from a neighbor.
It happened; the way accidents happen.
Coming up for air
she stopped thinking of myths
she became the thinking.
she stepped back
onto the shallow of drift
and undrift.
Breathed
prayed
the river would be sisterly
she palmed the very-smooth
*
But, the river knew.
It knew.
The water distorted
her long-hands.
© Umansky 2012
blog of poet, leah umansky 
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