East Region

The Other River

after Terri Warpinski, “Constant Movement: Estuary [Sensiba], 2024”, photographic montage, Trout Museum of Art

Below each river that flashes

moonlight, that snakes its dark body

through the silk of reeds and rushes—

below that quicksilver skin there is

a second river, almost identical,

as much present in this world

as the first, except for its name,

which is absence. Except for how

it pulls, which is even stronger than

the insistence of water. Except for its

pure and utter silence.             

                                        And so

I stand here again on the slick bank,

barefoot, remembering how much

I’ve forgotten already, a slight

sad tinge in the cold dew

and moonglow, but mainly

just waiting, breath in and out,

gazing down toward blank murk

while somewhere in these dark woods

one hundred songbirds sleep quietly,      

even the whir of their hearts

muffled, disguised—held within

their circled grass and fluff.

                                      Of course,                   

those birds have a deeper nest as well,

woven all through the other. I think perhaps

we all do too, and in saying this to you aloud,

holding out these bits of feathers and liquid silver,

my feet in the cold grass, ears alert—can I please

ask you to tell again your own long story?

You can even leave out the words.

Here's a link to an interview with the artist, including a copy of this photographic montage in a sidebar partway into article.