dead reckoning

water rose, full, dark river,
my thoughts, seeds, perfect,
in skirts of a dozen pockets.
 
grappling trees and branches  
all around,  
tenderly arranging night.
 
something so small,  
at least the moths  
who took me, heard.
 
with insects, breathing fire,
do their work  
among stone kingdom’s birds.
 
morning light vanished,
‘times ‘thought  
I fell into darkness.
 
the lichens, white, luminous,
as earth, back before,  
they remembered her doom.
 
better if she had slept  
on nothing, never floated by,  
bed between stars.