Stanislaus River, New Melones Dam, California

Every day we offer the river to our comfort

a sacrifice banal as a bathroom faucet,

I turn on the light, brush my teeth,

and spit salmon bones into the basin

They want you to call this body a lake

but a lake is a living thing, and this

is a dam to stop,

to obstruct

One day, drought came 

to unbury the river’s corpse 

where sand condemned to silt,

sucked at roots of leafless trees

Cold breathless waters once blue

or green, or clear, now stain

cathedral walls the colour of mud,

the limestone battlefield littered with rot

A bald eagle keeps watch

at the mouth of Rose Creek

waiting for it to swell with prey.

How long would it take?

How long would it take for this body to rise?  

One day, rain and snow came

and dams broke drought at their brims,

the collection plate for our needy mouths

heavy with water blossoming wealth

By spring orange trees are circled by glut

rotting around their feet 

because what do we need

with all that fruit?

We made the desert bloom again 

and that is all we ever wanted