The River in The Morning

hugs the sun, burns off her fog
in one breath, asks how she got
so wide overnight, remembers
all the fish, remembers
how they said that the ocean
refuses no river but she knows
better now, knows that she cried
herself into existence, she self-made,
not born from bog or lake or spring
but came down from mountain top,
she says, fuck that ‘seven morning rituals
that will change your life’ shit, all that tea
& meditation used to cloud up her rill,
she a Gully God now, she want sturdy
& steadfast, she not soft but solid,
kissed the sky & brought the sun down
with her to the ground, her waters deep,
all sizzle & sear, she built the bridge, she says—
cross it if you dare.

By Amanda Oaks

Biography:

Amanda Oaks is the founding editor of Words Dance Publishing, an independent press, literary blog + biweekly online poetry journal. Her works have appeared in numerous online & print publications, including decomP, Stirring, & Thought Catalog. She is the author of four poetry collections: Hurricane Mouth (NightBallet Press, 2014), her co-authored split book, I Eat Crow (Words Dance, 2014) & her series of free music-inspired eChapbooks which can be downloaded here : WordsDance.com + you can connect with her here: AmandaOaks.com