The flood split from the north,

poured into a cradle of stone,

and softened into a breathing river.

Glass-creeks veined the earth,

shattering into faces—

smiles adrift in every shard.

Love:

a mouthless continent

whispering of suns unseen,

across broken throats of light.

Fractured stars unspooled,

the moon paddling torn clouds,

vanishing into the lung of the storm.

Remembrance:

wax drowning flame,

flame cradling wax,

fuel folding back into itself—

a small sun gasping beneath

the ash-heavy dawn.

Still, the river runs,

a rumor of light

carving its name into clay.