Another classic poem of mine for National Poetry Month.
Flow She rises through silt and sand seeps through cracks in asphalt to suckle fox tails and dandelions sprouting wild on levee roads. Her power courses through me like moon pulling water to sea rushing by pear orchards carving jagged leaf veins in my belly and breasts Release me, I cry; Dive deeper, she beckons. Still the bota bag swells and splits. Still the earthen jar cracks and leaks. Later in twilight vapors will rise from shower spray and tea kettle. Sultry apparitions will glisten in your braids in the wrinkles of your terry robe. Shake loose your hair. Drop the garment from your shoulders. Let the moisture sink into your skin. Tonight the moon is full. Photo by Jeffrey Eisen