The day we trekked along the Rio Celeste
and I was so angry
I wanted to leave you behind
our guide paused
to pick buttercups which you photographed
we had gifted him our foreign coins
a sky sedate with rain
all day seeping into my eyes
my boots slosh
through paths of muted brown
no blue was to be seen
and the river surged
swollen in muddy torrents
Faster
like how I wanted to be
alone now that we were
bereft of blue
only water and gray
brimming pores
sliding down rocks
the great din of the rainforest
and indifference
and I wanted it all for myself
