Christopher, After the Explorer

Christopher, After the Explorer

We hover low over the river. His eyes are shining,
wildfire breath coming in gasps. Wildebeests
stampede through the tall grass below us and I pray
to God everything works itself out, one way or another.
His hands are rough like mine and my father’s
before us. He’s fast undoing the knots and then
a dead weight falls away. When I look back
down, all I see are ripples across the surface
of the dark water, the disappearing backs of crocodiles.


Kate Wylie (she/they) is a poetry MFA candidate at Pacific University and 2018 Webster University alum. Wylie reads fiction for The New Southern Fugitives, regularly contributes to the Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome society magazine Loose Connections, and has previously published or forthcoming work in Canary, Sport Literate, The 2River View, Sublunary Review, and Visitant.

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