a dot on river waters;
blending with the fish,
becoming one with rocks,
and algae, mixing in the tide.
if you lean in you'll see,
how hair is tangled with the foam,
how duckweed covers the bruised form,
how aimlessly it drifts above the water,
letting the stream guide it along.
and never keeping still, it goes
further to sea—a pike nudges its side,
a heron lets it pass beneath its legs,
and mayflies buzz around its head.
maybe some fishermen will catch
a glimpse—fate'll treat them to its eyes,
green as the riverfront.
in seconds it will disappear ahead,
and they'll be left with nothing but a
vague memory of death.