For all his life, Frank had been at war with the willows. They sprouted in and around the stream, clogged the irrigation ditches, and choked off the water flow.
His land, a narrow plain between
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in the stream behind
your house we absconded
with one, he pinched
at my cupped palms
as we bounded up
the stairs into your room
we threw the door closed
we thought we set him free
in your aquarium
& we slept that night
arms touching
bellies still sore
from giggling & we woke
to a guppy-less
aquarium we carried
him back in a bucket
we couldn't carry that weight
with bare hands