98poems/reeds

REEDS

How long have these reeds
been flat,
since before the dam –
or after?
Was it still a river then,
self-respecting
on its way to the sea,
high enough to sweep
these banks,
when it got in a hurry?

I will never know
what this land was then,
like a lover’s past
you cannot infer
from the absence
of what is said.

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