ii. A river, thawed Before, The rush would send me toppling down to collect with the other sediments hiding at the bottom of the river. We closed ranks and held tight to the slippery land beneath us each grain hoping the currents would rush right past us. Later, when the water did catch me I could not differentiate between the parts of me that swirled and the stream the spiraled. I was looping up, back, down, forward, tumbling with the current. Travelling from my former resting place as a glacier, into a greater question mark of I am not we are not us is not they are who? I am not the sediment. The sediment is not the slippery slope beneath us. The slope is not the currents. Still, I fell with the sediment, down the slope, Into the currents.