Death In the Thickets

They can’t find me for I hide in the thickets I float faceup, Lips breaking surface just barely Kissing the air between my teeth Is it my time to dive? To die? The rocks all around me scream To be tied to me My feet my arms And the river it pulls I can feel it Tugging my hair gently Like I once wished a boy to do And he did but he was A boy parading as a man But he’s why I’m here isn’t it? To wash off the filthy fingerprints his hands left on me The water dips beneath this useless waistband I beckon, I say Wash me, cleanse me The cloth drops and I am almost free Washing rape out of curly brown hair which surprises me because the hair on My head is straight and red Genetics. And maybe it was in his Maybe his father- His poor mother-? No don’t think about that now His reason is not mine and His excuses always dribbled like Black tar from his lips Pich stains and stays Water heals and removes but Not enough The sopping bra is gone in moments carried off by rapids I Cannot see But the listening gives me a different heartbeat to Listen to One that is not numbered I will not die from his pain I will end, As I began Stubbornly, From mine. The skin it touches water, touches reeds I scrub his hands away The pink grows pinker and the white Turns red I am bathed I am clean But not reborn Not yet. I dive to the bottom of The lake, hands grasping through the silt I Find a sharp pebble Imagine my grandfather’ face saying “This is not a good way to go” I agree but agreeing with The old is not Enough to stop the force The slash across my Crying wrists Crying red rivers down my fingertips I will only be sorry to this red river here, tasting like iron. I would have liked a blue death, tasting like Sky. They won’t find me for I hide in the thickets I float faceup, Lips breaking surface just barely Kissing the air between my teeth It was my time to die.