Wed, 18 March

Four confluences, Wednesday I. Where pale streams meet, we named the eddies after questions nobody finished asking. II. Two hours pooled in indigo. We forgot to surface. The light changed without us. III. Ochre water, warm cups. You talked about something that doesn't translate to dry land. IV. The delta broke into channels— everyone a mouth, everyone an estuary, everyone carrying the same river somewhere new. * A tennis ball floats past. A cat on the far bank watches it go. The equinox holds its breath at exactly 6:37.