Sharks in the Rivers

by Ada Limon

I heard you could take the sand from a red anthill, suck on the grains and put them back wet. The ants would carry your worries away.

A gray shark-like man runs with his son, you can tell he is pleased at his son’s speed, you can tell he is displeased at his own.

To lay one’s hand in another’s without fear is a seemingly simple act.

I’ve been walking for a long time, and it hasn’t made me smarter or faster, but I bet I can still beat you.

World, turn all you want to, faster even. I’ve come to like the way the breeze feels as it rips me limb from limb.