Poetry
1 min
In Praise of Water
Karen Kilcup
Makes you
cold, when you're hot, hot
when you're cold. Without
it, your tea is withered grass,
coffee brown powder, wine
deflated purple skin.
The tomato plant knows
its virtues, pulling it up into
swelling orange spheres,
sunshine in your mouth.
Become it: break unbroken
over granite rocks, swirl
around bends. Undammed,
contain multitudes of shining
finny shapes, green and silver
and lavender; move through
space, animate clarity. Travel
through lips, across tongue, down
throat. Become sweat, and tears,
and blood.
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