ESTUARIES/TRIBUTARIES/GULFS

(a triptych)

Prologue:

Ralph looked out from his car window at the Mississippi rising high above its banks. It looked to be breathing, swelling. The river was filled with nightmares he was yet to have. He was four.

The river licked parts of the highway. The tires sloshed through the water, which arced away from the car, brown and tired.

The current was strong. It roared beneath them as they crossed the bridge, slipping between buildings vacant on the banks, then drifted out of sight.

It carried entire trees on its back, the branches stripped of their leaves and waving in the air as if asking to be pulled from the water.

He closed his eyes as they crossed, learning to fear . . .