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.