River guide
My husband regales his mates
with the day’s close calls.
With every sharp turn
in the gorge
a brandy
on the rocks.
The boat snapped,
spat the tourists out
the mouth of the canyon.
sputter-hollering, their guide’s head sank.
I listen, up to a point.
Reckless beyond words his appetite
never falters except in the telling.
The tail of the river breaks on the rocks
but the mouth runs on for a good half-mile.