there is something about a river
or a body of water that you've known forever
or are seeing for the first time, without actually sensing
the shift, the gradual easing, it happens.

whatever the cause of the yelling the night before, the endless
droning of a TV, a child screaming downstairs, thumping up above,
the heat, the honking, the headaches, the bitter taste in the mouth,
the refusal to wash even one dish, whatever the cause

washes away in a body of water that you've known forever
or are meeting for the first time, where the Hudson opens wider
and the plush green mountains embrace it, and might even
embrace you.