On Another Date  

By Kathryn Chupp 

We walk along the marsh. 

The swans mate for life, you tell me. 

“Look how they coast across,” you tell me, when I

want to hear their churning webbed feet— tell me

you’ll stir up the water with me. 

On the pier, 

tell me cracks and how you’ve patched them 

when I talk foundations. 

Don’t tell me the color of concrete. 

On the channel banks,  

tell me seeds when I talk rich soil. 

Tell me your soils, too, and where you’ve dug,

and what you’ve let die there: fertilizer.  

On the lake, 

tell me depth, not width. 

Drink in the sweet water 

with me, grab a straw— don’t tell me 

you want to stay on dry sand.  

On the bench,  

you tell me you want another date 

when I talk heading home.  

I want another date, too— 

one who relishes diving into waters. 

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