Fluid
by Brooke L. Nilsson
Fluid
water dripping
onto fire, steam rises
Crackle.
California is clean
you know who you are
hills, valleys are what they are,
visibly working to form
a paradise of sun and
asphalt, green, yellow, blue
and sand.
Fluid
water on parched earth
floating silt blossoming
nurturing the next generations
blowing onto your
dirty purse
To take a purse or not
take a purse? but everyone
carries a purse, full
bulging, hateful bulky purses
to spend the day staring into
that black hole of bricks, ready to throw,
crumble into others food.
No one speaks when they have
a mouth full of bricks
no one claims to have made
the mortar. It was someone
else, some other.
But the purse is always filled
with cement and mortar
it always comes from the source
never mixes, never blends
and never yields to history.
Oh, to be water, fluid,
floating silt blossoming
calmly under California
fire. Clean.