he moves the pace of the river,
his home a houseboat
he eschews dry land, for that is where
they are all buried:
a wife, his only son, the anonymous victims
of his rifle's rabid rattle
whatever ghostly litany lives in the lapping of waves
against his hull remains mystery to him
on the water he'll stay, drifting downstream
until he reaches the sea
where he hopes he'll have no memory
of hard earth and tormenting souls
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC
he moves the pace of the river,
his home a houseboat
he eschews dry land, for that is where
they are all buried:
a wife, his only son, the anonymous victims
of his rifle's rabid rattle
whatever ghostly litany lives in the lapping of waves
against his hull remains mystery to him
on the water he'll stay, drifting downstream
until he reaches the sea
where he hopes he'll have no memory
of hard earth and tormenting souls
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