spring2015

Reed VenrickThe Water That Flowseven fifty miles from shoreyou may dip a bucket in the Atlanticand raise to your lips, a cup of waterstill fresh from the Amazoneven after she forgotwhat made her happy enoughto skip along the beach--Ilha de Marajothe happiness goes onafter the memory forgotlike the vein that flows intothe body floating with saltthe source comes from far awaya place so far you will never knowa trickle of spring from a mountain springso high in the Andesshe will never gobut what she would never forgetthe melancholy that flowed deepestdrifted down below an ocean of brineand yet land was seeneven fifty miles awaythe happiness of youthgrowing wild in sea oatsand among babasu frondswaving from shore78