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RIVER RISING by Robert E. Heald • Cleaver Magazine
THE RIVER RISING by Robert Heald The air is glass. Leave the window open wide, and I’ll tell you how the daylight is its own kind of prayer. I’ll tell you the secrets you mutter in sleep. You dream of rain, and morning is breaking. You dream of my hands, and your river heart is rising. The brown water at my ankles, my knees, my groin. The green waters at my chest dragging me under. My bones on the riverbed,