Current

The sludge-slow flow of the visible current

opens a path we can’t continue, tugs

at what no hand can pull along.

It’s how even water loses memory,

travels a direction it cannot find,

a vein cut loose of its own skin,

to separate itself from what it belongs to –

depth, surface,

flow,

source.

            Keep moving,

it says, without a word

as it takes the plunge to free what was form

into no shape it knew

it could be.