Poeme de Dream de Creek by Erin Tengquist

Last night I had a dream. 

I was going up the creek.

There were lots of stones and rocks

Not a gentle swell along the way.

It must have just rained.

It was beautiful,

A slight gaussian blur,

Pale black and white tones,

Spike Lee must have filmed it,

It was like a print that I made back in photo school,

Brought back feelings from back in the day.

I kept going,

I kept trekking, up and over small and big rocks,

Some were sharp, most were coarse.

I gathered some bruisin’ underestimating the currents’ force.

Barefoot, I climbed up a boulder, and saw my shoe disappear between rocks.

I winced.  I did not want to dig into the mud.

Yet, “I must continue onward”, I had to make a try.

There was no other time.

I closed my eyes, forcing my hand into the earth.

I could of cried from the slime, all the muck, and the sticks, the sand, the current rushing against my hand,

As I tried, it was deeper than I thought.

The incodelescent of weary made me want to stop,

As I had gone further up the creek than I wanted to,

I thought that I had my shoe,

Pulling it out of the muck,

Yet, where was the other?

It was getting dark,

I looked around,

I was running my luck,

I went back down the creek for just a few.

And there, on an embankment,

Lay both of my shoes.

And I had to chuckle to myself a bit,

For others might not have tried.

It might have been the wrong one, but it was worth the fight.

As the sun had just set,

And the creek was rising,

I decided to float back along the way.

Holding my head above water,

Feeling the water’s sway.