the river’s exit wound
(serrated and ragged and swollen)
throbs with a quickening of pulse.
i’m thinking of the restless,
hurrying along your forearm.
there are homes to leave,
phenomena to scrutinise:
molluscs with shoplifted spines
and drowning glaciers bewildered
by terminal prescriptions of sunlight.
i’m thinking of splintering. people
who take bad photos of sunsets.
tonight, i will knot phone cord around fingertips
ripening a wrenching, tidal blue.
tomorrow, i will take a plane or a bus or a train
and travel the atomic, foundering miles
to the river’s open mouth, or to you, or both.
Leeza is a history undergraduate and is trying to use the noun ‘writer’ unironically. Of the poem, she says “This is a poem about the ebb and flow of people and rivers.” @leeza_i
This poem is in response to a prompt selected by our Creative editor Monika Radojevic, “If these rivers lead somewhere, where would they go?” To stay up to date and submit your response to next month’s prompts, follow us on Instagram where we make the announcement.