a journal of fantastical poetry

Riddle by the Riverbank

by Jessica P. Wick

I am unfurling from the loam,
green teeth and dew.
I echo from a clutch of bones,
tangled by root.
I am standing in the river,
willow-tree still.
I drip while the wind considers
each glassy rill.

My first lover is the flood-watch,
the swift water.
My fingers have brought sabotage,
unlatched laughter.
My voice is a dapple of light
where rivers flow.
My lover can be gift or blight,
wheat ripens gold.

I am a sad tale and warning,
green teeth and dew.
I am bones the birch hoards,
tangled by root.

Who am I?

June 21st, 2019

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