Eric Huff

‍ ‍

Water Strider

pull on the little strings hanging down so lazily from the otherwise empty sky. feel each with
intention between your thumb and forefinger. listen for a click. does it turn on a little light? might
one bring down the attic stairs? what is the name of the meditation where I look for my likeness in storefront windowpanes? when I unfold myself, the water flows freely from the natural spring. you
keep asking me the same question: all my dreams are black soil. you know. you already know. do this – skim across the surface of the pond and take whatever time you need to consider your name –
water strider. when you’re just about finished, I’m going to ask you the same question. but first, look
at this right here: all these strings were attached to the little feet of birds except this one which is
wrapped around my tongue as tight as I can get it.

Eric Huff (he/him) is a public-school teacher living in the west metro area of the Twin Cities. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in publications such as 1913: A Journal of Forms, The Muleskinner Journal, Luna Luna, Saragun Springs, S W I F T S, Molecule, and Action, Spectacle, among others.