1.0Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetryElynnAlexanderhttps://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/author/admin/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="wN7OXI4Oj9"><a href="https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/archives/davis213/">Lauren Davis</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/archives/davis213/embed/#?secret=wN7OXI4Oj9" width="600" height="338" title="“Lauren Davis” — Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)" data-secret="wN7OXI4Oj9" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js /* ]]> */ </script> Bent Water   I knew you before the drowning, when mid-spring we took into our mouths the creek, wading out, our feet masked in muck. We took between our teeth thistle weed, lost bait and line. You uncovered the mere beneath my tongue and asked to sample please and please again. First sign of summer […]