Oh! Rio Puerco,

we’ve met where before?


Cuba?     Arizona?

No water, but sand.


And here now Isleta,

near the Rio Grande.


Oh, Rio Puerco,

you’re everywhere then.


Empty with promise

to come back again,


so, Rio Puerco,

you’ve stretched yourself thin.


A dead bed sans water,

dry dirt and mere sand,


Oh, Rio Puerco,

where did yourself wend


your purposeful water?

‘cross arid dry land?


And now   here you look,

from whence once began:


a fossil,   once other.

The end comprehends.




©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

07 October 2013


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