The clinic door clicks behind me.
Yes, it’s still unlocked.
The smell of fresh water
breathes me to the open window

where I let down my handmade rope
made of bandages knotted together.
I lower myself to the bank
where the river grass grows in the mud:

a reed raft, a reed flute,
both useful in their hollowness.
I sink my toes in the silt,
wade into the black water.

Craft & current carry me.
The less I struggle,
the more the river takes me
where I want to go.

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