The Place I Will Be When I Die
(02-07-99)

The creek
Ran down to the Olentangy
I suppose
Miles away

The trees were young
In the bed
I can see the shiny bark

The sun filtered through
But the little creek
Ran between cool treed hillsides

The hill on one side
Rose right from the creek side
Up to where the dead abandoned sheep
Moved back into the earth

The hill on the other
Rose slow
To just as high
Then a fence
Soy beans, corn or wheat or resting

I built dams
I needed a pool

The air
Of nakedness
Before erections
Before that sort of shame

I could run
Jiggle my hips
And breasts
In a dance that was only mine

I needed a pool

I needed to ask the water
To wait
For me
To have a place
To be

Play
Languorously in the pool

The water was cold
On my bare skin
Clear

Enough to
Pretend the shifting of shapes

Enough to
Become who I was
Not who I appeared to be
Supposed to be

When the end
Comes to me

You don’t have to do a thing

I will be there
The creek
Running to the Olentangy

My place to
Move back into the earth

Shifting shape again

POET'S MOUTH

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