This river is a mink stole draped and dragged across the earth. Sunlight pricks on edges dipped in white; highlights silted ochre. This river is a sweater. Mud wools the bottom, current spools the thread. But really, the river is a blanket, hemmed at the docks. In stillness all unravels. Time passes and shadows pocket waves, the river is a pair of suede cargo pants. Shadow pockets full of pejerrey. These fish are silver change. Men cross the pants in jet-skis, pleating them in their wake. Suddenly, it’s a schoolgirl’s uniform. The water disperses and tangles upon the shore in lacy translucence. It is a wedding dress.
Río Paraná
Grace Penry (she/her) is a MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas. She has been published in the Oakland Arts Review, Blackworks mag, and WestWind Journal among others. Her essay, “Gun and I” was nominated for Best of the Net 2023 by Kitchen Table Quarterly and translated into German by TRANS/LIT2. An excerpt from her novel-in-progress was awarded Honorable Mention in the Writer’s Digest Annual Contest. This poem was inspired after reading Ashley McWaters’s collection Whiteworks, and written while reflecting the movement of the river.