The Obelisk

Barbara A Meier

The failure of rocks to hold the water back,
creating the riffles and rapids that form
the narrowing channel of the spine
of the river going dry.
Paradise Riffle, then the Devils Backbone,
dumping us into a pool, where we are trapped next
to a boulder the size of an ancient obelisk. 

The Sotar Catamaran throbs against the rock,
caught up in the hydraulics of the Rogue River.
Wrapped to a boulder, we rock the catamaran to free it:
to and fro, side by side, leaning right, leaning left.
The shore just feet from us
guarded by the troll beneath the bridge.
We can’t break his bond.

The cliffs at Half Moon Bar - empty.
No rescuers insight upriver.
The man gives up, slumped against
the pillow of Urethane/Lexatron fabric. 

“If to and fro won’t work how
about up and down?” 

I spring up and down just like a Jack in a Box,
chasing that weasel over and over again.
repeating myself, repeating myself, repeating myself.
and with one mighty series of bounces
the catamaran rocks free. 

Later, at Foster Bar, the catamaran
gets stuck in the shallow gravel beds.
The man angrily tows the cat to deeper water.
But I sit among the cobbles warming myself in the sun.
I sit because I am finished.
Finished with the river and the man.

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Barbara A Meier
Barbara A Meier is a retired teacher who works in a second grade classroom in Lincoln, KS. Her  recent publications include: The Fourth River, BlinkerLit, Empyrean, Sabre, Masque & Spectacle! and Top-Shelf Literacy Magazine.
She has been nominated for a Pushcart award and Best of the Net.  Her chapbook, Sylvan Grove was published by The Poetry Box. She loves all things ancient.