Riverside Drive 
By Rachel Custer
                          

Something likea water, thicker

than water, dampened
the toes of our shoes -

a foreboding kiss,
less caress than bite.

Three weeks I have dreamed
this river, its strange fish

whispers skimming
the black. Numb,

I lust for ice-crusted
liquid pain.

You, with your silly incremental
steps toward suicide.

I laughed like a wicked,
leathery thing,

leapt.

 

 

 

Rachel Custer is an undergraduate creative writing student at Indiana University- South Bend. She is a poet by necessity, and spends much of her time searching for the elusive perfect word. The St. Joseph river haunts her and moves through her poetry in ways that often surprise and sometimes vex her.