WET  By karen marie christa minns

Forgive me.
I may have drowned you
 in my words,
a torrential river of rapids
 rushing
frothy and fast.
I need to throw you back.
On the banking, in silence.
Like the fish you catch
  at the edge of that quiet lake.
Admired, measured, gasping
  until released,
  back in a flash
to their wild habitat.