Caroline Hernandez

Poem of the Week | Big Water by Amy Blythe

We walked over crooked roots and branches

until we reached the water’s edge, 

stopping only to take off our shoes

Your arms orbited mine as I shifted and splayed, 

fingers fanning over a half-sunken statue of a windmill, 

we slipped into the wild and wide

Our toes slithered through the surface to pebbles beneath,

a sweep of small ripples washing away our untruths,

we stood still, letting the water push aside 

My not enough and your need for more  

sank to tangle with the clammy weed below, 

and, for a moment, we were brushed clean.

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Cover photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash.