Aaron Kreuter

The Birth of Freshwater

First  of  all,   I  don’t   know  what   this  “birth”   in  the   title  is
referring to,  there was always freshwater. What  the  comets
brought    down    from    whoknowswhereintheinfinite
cosmos   was  fresh  as  a  truth  brilliantly  told, I  can  tell  you
that.     The      first      Earthcovering     ocean      wassurprise
surprisealso fresh,  but  then rain  mixed  with some  carbon
dioxide,    came   down   acidic,    scoured   the    rocksnot   to
mention all the  salt being  spewed  up from  the deep  deep
and hello, the ocean  water we  know and love. So, if  anything,
it was salt water that was born. Step into  any of the  250,000
lakes  and  submerge yourself  in  nectared comet.  Of course,
then  we  came  along,  discovered   industry,  fell  in  love  with
toxicity,   built  cities   that  break  a   lake   up   into   millions  of
rivers,   beavers     on     bathsalts   Each     washing     machine
harnessing  the  same  scouring  logic  as a stream smoothing
rocks. The water  spilled on the  kitchen  floor after you  scrub
the  Dutch  oven  that  moments  ago held a  hearty beef  stew
remembers  the ancient lake, still  feels  its  pressure.  Even  us
anthropics  are  nothing but  sentient  water. Water  with  hard
ons   and   wet   crotches.   Water   with   car   keys.  Water  with
pickaxes.


Aaron Kreuter‘s most recent poetry collection, Shifting Baseline Syndrome, was a finalist for the 2022 Governor General’s Award, and was shortlisted for the 2022 Raymond Souster Award and the 2023 Vine Awards for Jewish Literature. His other books include the poetry collection Arguments for Lawn Chairs, the short story collections Rubble Children and You and Me, Belonging, and, from spring 2023, the academic monograph Leaving Other People Alone: Diaspora, Zionism and Palestine in Contemporary Jewish Fiction. Aaron’s first novel, Lake Burntshore, comes out on April 22, from ECW Press. He lives in Toronto, and is an assistant professor at Trent University.