“Waters” by Christina Apathy

When I feel like an ermine in a hunters’ world

outwitting the obstacles left in haste for me.

When my tree bark flakes from one too many aphids sap-sucking my skin,

and haphazard, thirsty roots stretching out from my trunk recoil;

When propped up like a scarecrow, against scaffolding of my own making,

I want to cut and run.


When a handshake of thanks-giving, in an inkling, feels like a trap laid.

When tethers on a curious, traveling, lofty child are too much to witness.

When parachuting visions land like a symphony of revolution but seem a night-long flight away.

When fleshy abundance is whittled to the sharp jaw button of a skeleton,

I cry out.


When counties must behave impeccably, compete abhorrently, to win what seems essential;

When the imbalance sheet is the bottom line on every slope or slant;

When neighbors contemplate not leaving a note of apology,

I flee,

I flee.

…to where the waters inhale courage and the waves crash out on me.

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