The Iowa River

Lying flat face up
with hands and legs tied parallel
with banks corresponding
and like a terrorized creature
unable to gather the body together
for a hope of living
Iowa River continues her journey
through the prairies
to the endless end.

Denying to embrace
her folks on shore
without responding and complying
to their smiling chores
never even waving to the willow’s good-bye
or the silhouetting of trees so high
handcuffed, chained and blindfolded
Iowa River continues her journey
Like a harnessed horse in mourning.

Refusing to speak as if shy
secretively and silently
she passes by
without even ever hugging her neighbors
burdened by her own labors
maimed by her own pressures
Iowa River continues her journey
like a Sufi’s disciple
given to the meaningfulness of silence.

Bowing down in humiliation
with a face turned gloomy and dark
as if tarnished by one’s own adulterous acts
or by the revelation of one’s father’s hideous facts
giving up the shimmering glitter
and discarding the reflective power
like a dark shadow amid the lawn
Iowa River continues her journey
to an endless end of her own.

Never enchanting the son sunbathing on the shore
or the daughter rummaging in her lore
to dive into her bosom and cling to her
to kiss with aching heart and floating eyes
because she knows her children’s lies
indifferent to inmates and aliens alike
Iowa River continues her journey
amid the hearts of infidel ties
and through the chests of boundless lies.

Having known the limits of a chatter
and the temporality of a glitter
realizing how bonds can shatter
and that hefty hugs and flirtative caresses do not matter
wounded by the wealth of man
maimed and mumbled
Iowa River continues her journey
divided between hope and despair
to an endless end.

August 31, 2004
Iowa House Hotel