The Cuyahoga River occasionally bursts
into flames
and I figure it is the water in my polluted lungs
that catches on fire when I run; I am
always running
(a body in motion tends to stay in motion).
And there is always something to run from –
a dark figure behind me
and so I force my legs to keep moving and
I continue to chase things I cannot see.
The boardwalk, two streets over;
Children scream and it could be fear
Or joy but whatever it is, it is loud
And I would cover my ears
if my hands were not glued
to the handlebars in front of me; I am not
yet young enough to coast over the wooden planks
hands-free, recklessly,
angrily.
The water licks the beach – it is bright red
in the glow of the dying day
the life beneath the crimson surface is simmering.
In a few hours the dark water
Will scald the coast
It will ooze through your toes in the sand
The sea cannot bear the weight of the carcasses –
the casualties from a perpetual war
with the shore.
Each night it returns the wounded
to their homes,
Cleansing itself of its sins beneath the moon
until the sun rises once more.