Painting by Jennifer Davis 

Trapped Inside

Every river longs

To swell memory to ancestor size

And reclaim land that belonged to her 

Old Woman River

Running naked in the sun

Carrying waste and toxins

Along with grief for dead things to a sea

Transporting esoteric knowledge

No one had a taste for

Unlike clockwork she forgets nothing

Though she sometimes wishes she could

She wishes she could quit this job

But no matter where she goes

Her work is the same

Central casting only sends her 

To certain auditions

“When they hired me

They hired a mother,” she said 

“But I never intended my breast

Would be available to strangers

My nurturing would be for institutions

Which devour whatever I offer

When I arrive in the morning

A white noise hum of machines

Welcomes me to give up milk

Like a wet-nurse”

She sings pity songs

Solicits sympathy from those

Who might understand

She feels as if she’s time

Instead she is slave to it  

Compromised out of 

Shape and metabolism

She goes anyway and does

Who she is

Because like earth and her rivers

She’s running to keep water

Moving in the right direction