Forthcoming

I feel a ragged and dubious draft poem taking form in my blog-pulse ...

Forthcoming

I dream I'm drowning, the floodwaters
blistering over the river's dirt bed -
a borewall of branches and snakes; leaves
lifted from the mountains wrap my limbs.

Change shall come, the flood gurgles
as it pushes my form beneath bridges,
hustles towards the salty storms where water
can rage unconfined. My bouyant lungs

fight the loving tug of gravity; my bladder
empties its rich stash of chemicals - they call
to societies gathering around me: breed!
Breed like the moon has crashed and drowned.