By Emma Wheeler (Alder)
Why do the cops yell at me every other time I come to the river?
Since when did rivers become illegal?
Where do these cops draw the borderlines between cement and river-we-cannot-be?
Vetch? Willow? Silt? Swallow-nest?
Clean clothes? White skin? Another place to lay your head at night?
Where else am I supposed to pray?
If a river could, would it eat a cop, swallow them whole and leave only a badge in a swirling eddy?
Would great blue heron stand silent witness?