The Far Bank

cool country, my dad says,
before old lost river

uprooted tree lying on its side
on the far bank, his cat scan

came back blank, this morning
he told my neighbor

about the time he saved me
from drowning in a motel pool

in Idaho, autumn in Boise,
he asked why I don’t write

about that, I’ve tried,
I said, halfway across Louisiana,

he’s helping me move, I didn’t know
he needed a cat scan, all he wants

to talk about are the trees
feinted along waterways,

excessive nutrients from storm
run-offs, underwater grasses

declining, marsh loss from the oil spill,
nothing compared to damage

from more permanent erosive
forces, ruined landscape, beautiful

he mutters, the cat scan he needed
came back blank, is that good, I ask,

smaller habitats we pass fiercer
clinging to native plants,

there’s nothing to write about Idaho
I drowned until he pulled me out