Erin Monahan


The Nile

It seems my eyes are rivers, endless
and sun swept. Here - impossibly pure
and banked by sand,
is haven.

Limbs float, tentatively tied to
trunks deserted to new generations.
Half hidden, I am
the crocodile.

Yet, in the sifted silt
submerged, I am painted
a disarming shade of jade.

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