Cubits

I float on my back.
I sacrificed all of the deer for the grasses to grow on the shore.

The smell of the river disinfects my lungs and blows my mind.

There will be a tree for the healing of the nations
And the wolves will have lost my scent.

Roots point the way to the convergence -
the convergence at the cubit city
but I don't want the ride to end.

I want to keep going.

In through the yellow stones I imagine I will float,
and roll onto the sand.
Cold, yellow sand.

I will never see the wolves again.