holding it in the basin, I waited stroking some of its blackened leaves

by Cindy Rene

crossing over

a memory
in this water
crossing that bridge

to walk

in this water
I watch my grandfather
stomp through mud
on the end of a question
on leaves blackened bulging

I imagine
you stomp through mud
squeeze the secrets between your toes
rub the basil, blackened, on your heels
tap it on your face

across that bridge
I always imagined you
wandering
somewhere answers follow you down the body
through mud, blackened,
on the ash

cross the bridge
you walked as the question my father gave
at the end

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Born and bred in Brooklyn, Cindy Rene is a writer whose work has been featured in Plantin Magazine and Villanova University’s Bridges Review. Her current obsessions include exploring spiritual family ties and archiving the past through her body. She received her BA from Villanova University.