Miss Take

Anyone who bothers to look up may see a storm is coming
The river runs low and mother aches to give rain
Bucket by bucket collapse the river’s shape
Violent gushes blur the lines, making mud of a canyon
This place where we used to find drink
This space that threatened to spill our blood
Paint spills into the streets
Entitlement vs need
When disease isn’t pretty
The walking dead cry more
We know
Walls shake
We know
Hands ache
We know
Brother, Mother, Lover, Other
We pray we won’t miss take
Hold tight
A single boat on the river capsizes
Tread lightly
In mother we trust

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