A River Reflects

You have walled up my free-flowing waters, trammeled me with rip-rap and rat-rotten levees; you entombed me under asphalt

You have trapped out the beaver that shaped my watershed, the salmon that climbed me into the land, thrown bridges across my back

You ditched and filled, drained and overbuilt, the wetlands that cushioned the blows of my wrath, my flooding wrath against the lands around me

You choke me with nitrogen runoff and mats of green algae, suck out fresh water and give me salt to drink, you drain me to dust and dead fish

But I swear I hold no malice, need no revenge, claim no sacrifices. Stop bringing me
children to drown.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside