[Long description: A poem, transcribed below. The frame is a painting of a mineral tub ring left behind by a dam, the sky overhead submerged under water. 2105, the water spirit, drowns too.
Rebar finger of the sky
This naked, orphan earth
Brick by brick, a wall on high
Smothered this stream in dirt
Mountain touches weeping sky
And here their tears collect
This lake in which the river lies
Strangled, by her neck
But seasons change, and waters rise
The wall’s authors fell sick;
“Can mountains cry? Can rivers die?
Who’s grand design is this?”
Bloody fingers, broken sky
Her sons and daughters touched
The stones cast o'er her heavy chest
And ripped them all to dust
But trace the tub ring left behind
And walk among the wreck
No waters wash the mem'ry of
The line around her neck ]
December 12, 2019
I wrote this poem about a week ago for Decemverse, but finals hit, so I decided to wait until now to figure out how to present it. I'm a little shelf conches about it but I'll live :^p The purpose of Decemverse is practice anyway.
This is inspired by most of the rivers here in AZ, but if you squint, it's also a 2105 origin story. I've been wanting to write poetry for TWWM for a little while now, so I'm pretty tickled I got to do that.
To make up for the morbidity, here is a more happy story about the dam removal at Fossil Creek.