my muskrats spot the surface. their weight bent, and flourish. they smear the layers of transparency; darken, sinister and cast from bank to bank impetuous. i watch them ankle-deep and hope for the inching, sensual gulp, the potential for depth.
meanwhile, the light is rinsed blue and gray, and leaking. my muskrats friction and grow denser. they defy the undreamed flooding, water violent with adventure. momentum that would overwhelm the stance of my muskrats--the stain of them--and carry us all.
at night, i bear my muskrats home. stare through the dark at them and linger in the mat and musk of their bodies. my hesitations mold and occlude. maybe to flood tomorrow. maybe tomorrow lapping at the ankles.
