low tide still

a free verse poem for riparian: the banks of our love

Richardson Bay at Low Tide by Samantha Wallen

“the bone yards of fresh death startled us”
— from irreplaceable, Part 7

in Bucha, Ukraine
Tatyana Petrovna, 72
stands in her garden
three curled up bodies
bundled in winter coats
blue jeans and sneakers
lay on the dirt beside her
bloodied by bullets

some hands bound
some killed on bicycles
some while walking
down the street
all shot point blank

the implications make their way
into my bloodstream

a watershed
is how a single system of liquid
moves above and below ground

in Tiburon, California
i stand at the water’s edge
bunch grass curled around
my feet as the soft tide
goes and exposes what lies
beneath Richardson Bay