Edge of Water, Nimrod Falls, Montana

by Brian Blanchfield

Bareness in greater proportions, bare
in the pairing, the slow man and his son;
that estimation, too, the boy steps ahead of. Behind,
upshore, a study of the swimming hole and his
buttery way down the rocks, rippling dilemma
who, it will be said, must learn to shave,
whose aptitude on his own pertains. If uncircumcised, sorry
and self- innocent, example. For feet, the wet white dumplings
manage for now the body weight. Then, immersion, then
a shallow paddle he picked up somewhere.

No place is dangerous. The situation arrives
as we do. Dad, when he wants someone
to give attention; Butthole, he calls back to the bank
to chide what he contrives is caution, when
contrivance suffices; Baby. The man stands dry.
The boy remarks the cooler water in the cove.

There and back, imitation bats, cliff swallows
hector the falls and the sulfur air and recur
to the limestone, a thousand- chambered console.

Last updated December 10, 2022