LAUREN EGGERT-CROWE


 

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The Water That Was

Here, water makes no promises.

The current races through
the desert creekbed, a lover leaving
gnarled branches uprooted and gasping
from the shock of so much rushing. Gone
after the clouds bruised with rain. This morning:
debris on sun-blanched shoals. Here is the evidence.
Water does not hold.

But you know the story, the addiction to eternity.

We seduce water to call us
home, knit us wide scarves
of grass. We beg for days. We need

the way it fills us. The end
of the story? Everyone collapses

from the exhaustion
of making their beloved stay.

Originally appeared under the title "Santa Cruz River, Dry After a Storm" in You Are Here: The Journal of Creative Geography, 2006