Gently Down the Stream (Repost)

                        will we ever

                        see through
                        the ripples
                        to our toes:

                        thousands 
                        of be-bodies
                        sculpting
                        this bed

                        too deep
                        to drain
                        so we gorge

                        swollen 
                        in this 
                        drought

                        and forget
                        the taste
                        of water

                        yet skip
                        stones
                        like shrapnel
                        across
                        the channel

                        where
                        hop scotching
                        children
                        chant

                        'row, row, row
                        your...'

                        and they
                        soak up
                        the rapid 
                        current

                        wondering
                        what song
                        to sing next?

                            - Rachel Gilliatt
                          originally posted November 26, 2012
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Gently Down the Stream

                        will we ever

                        see through
                        the ripples
                        to our toes:

                        thousands 
                        of be-bodies
                        sculpting
                        this bed

                        too deep
                        to drain
                        so we gorge

                        swollen 
                        in this 
                        drought

                        and forget
                        the taste
                        of water

                        yet skip
                        stones
                        like shrapnel
                        across
                        the channel

                        where
                        hop scotching
                        children
                        chant

                        'row, row, row
                        your...'

                        and they
                        soak up
                        the rapid 
                        current

                        wondering
                        what song
                        to sing next?

                            - Rachel Gilliatt

Heirloom Pendant

                   trench me up, tight boots

                   and tiptoe
                   my barbed wire whisper
                        a dangle of breath
                        blue ribbon parade

                   dance me down, tight boots

                   and decorate
                   my septic stage
                        a heartbeat bullet
                        disbanded battalion

                        swinging on the radio

                                      - Rachel Gilliatt

Derailed

                                      
                     deadheading
                          motives
                          of engineered iron
                     stitched in the seams

                     these rusty knuckles
                          grasping for switches
                          back to the mainline
                     drenched in diesel

                     the rails reverberate
                          echoes in steam
                          fingerprint pennies
                     pinching for change

                     a pocket not picked
                          this empty boxcar
                          clouded by -

                          I mean to clutch

                     but,
                     says the brakeman

                          the terminal
                          require no baggage

                                        - Rachel Gilliatt