The white river slowed and deposited me, the brown river stone, in its shallow.
Discarded fragile, light spaces where brown once lived…
Gaping shells, pink, white iridescent surrounded.
I shall not covet your shimmer.
I look up through my watery grave and see a bright blueness I cannot understand.
Dismissing the false bright tricks of rippled sun,
I continue to stare until the azure gives way to blackness pinpointed by twinkling.
Whispers caress the edges of the white wash’s current crashes.
I hear a story that the twinkle is a rock so powerful it became a star.
One of those stars birthed me.
I am not just a thing ran smooth and safe by white waters.
When I break, my innards are dry and jagged and violent.
I discover my gravity.
Luis, Juan come, let’s dam this erosive river!
I recognize the same stardust in you.
We spark, combust, burst.
Our sediment intermingles and flows refusing drowning.
Now, the river runs brown.