i am sewn into a beaver pelt
and set adrift in the river
i hear the rocks split the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
i feel them drag along my back
these jagged river stones
not yet worn down, splitting the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
no longer enough air to breathe
the stench of game hide and water fills my lungs
bruised, i flail, splitting the water
though finally darkness satiates my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
——
Words and Feathers 
I feel the darkness of a river pulling pulling. A hunger dangerous to satisfy.
I am sewn into a beaver pelt…. that’s brilliant. Damn, I wish I’d had that idea. Love it.
Thank you. I have absolutely no idea where the came from. I started with the idea of being something bundled up and cast adrift. But beaver pelt? So pioneer…
Well that was a ride. We have had it all this evening.Death in the River, or of the River perhaps. Metaphor abounds here. I love the repeated line about darkness and how it resolves. I wonder who put you in there?
Me. It’s always me.
And thank you for the kind words…
hmm. exquisite use of senses. 🙂
Thank you!
The repetition of those two lines makes the message echoes louder.
I felt like it needed some kind of refrain. I’m glad it made it louder.
I love your use of repetition here. A great piece.
Thanks very much!
I sense the constraint of the beaver pelt and the longing to see which doesn’t seem to be realized at the end.
I always wonder, is it better to know, or not to know? I don’t think I answered my own question here, just asked it with a more obscure metaphor.
You have captured magnificently the dark side of the river…
All rivers are dark. Babbling brooks are telling us to do awful things.
all rivers and streams are esophagi
leading to the great
world stomach
Brilliant. I came reading this piece.
Wow! Hopefully I can repeat the performance. ❤
Hahaha! Ah, you’re so fun… ❤