for Sally
In these days, we don’t speak
of drought, we speak of water—
the impossible blue sea near Phuket
and the wide Colorado River.
We speak of turquoise and green
and aquamarine and you make water
with three hydrogen molecules.
We speak of the bull in India
that stored water on its back.
We speak of drinking black chia seeds
as they did in the desert.
We speak of the coming storm,
of floods, of the deluge,
the way water changes things.
It is no surprise that I think of you
as water—something pure, something
necessary, something true—
and in these days I choose
not to think of drought, I think
of turquoise, green and aquamarine
and wish it for you.