41 F L o o d The body is a city of bridges, lift bridges and canals and collapses waiting like peonies or plum blossoms to unfold. Flood. i come from the Mississippi which is to say i rub against my borders slowly and fill with filth. i, river, everything becomes me and i flush and flood with the thought of it. to expand, dear body. to widen like the map with every voyage, every cruise and crossing of hands. Flood. The musk of old cabins, dank and moss, the thrust and arc of bodies of water. The violence of desire tamed only by swerve and spill. i, river, i, i, i, i. My name floods away from me. i raise my feet to the table. i listen to traffic and rain and my pulse is both. ...