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
——
