five minutes: eyes closed

together we can grab the waist of the overflowed and murky creek
and lift and slowly redirect so it doesn't run right through our homes
and soak our shoes and beds and souls and fill us with more than too many tears

we can lift the road, the blocked and goaty road off the past and,
if we can get our arms under the beginning and the end we can lift it, maybe, like a weighty rope and swing it out wide to make it new, unexplored, as yet unseen curved around the wildoats

we can take up arms and lunge at voices and find the right stance for defense

it is better to not see your opponent
you know all you need to know
you can hear them coming

sense the direction of attack

if you open your eyes you will only be distracted by the weight of water, pushing always, the cement of the road and the signs and the gates,
the glint of the blade that will find you.