blood river

i follow the big tongue into the ocean.
they say languages came from 
a shattered tower but i think they arrived
in the water. heads thrust beneath the current.
there, spirits possessed our mouths
& taught us exactly how to say,
"i am lost." in the blood river the fish 
are already dead. easy to scoop from the water
& eat like apples. i call you over & over 
& you do not pick up because you are air now.
no one floats in the blood river. 
if you go in the deep you will just become
a stone, smoothed by the passing
of all your ghosts. the tree goes backwards.
i am holding my grandfather by the collar
of his shirt. he is running without any hands.
i tell him, "put those back." the language he speaks
is not my own. instead. our words pass each other
like chickens & goats. the longer i'm in the river
the more accustomed i become to red.
red sky. red rupture. red teeth. a bonfire 
somehow floating on the surface of the blood.
did you know that there is no such thing 
as an ocean? we are running out of time
to reach a nowhere open. where we become
part of the birds learning. where no one
can tell us, "you are not delivered." 
i cup my hands. look into the pond. 
there the tadpoles all have our noses
& our fear of silence. i hold them as i walk.
they do not scream though they are terrified.