"For Those the River Call"

 

Down in muddy bubbles
the ghosts appear as currents around a bend
and sing the siren's song
in the early morn's dreamy haze.

A metal peak rises from the deep;
Old Lady Mississippi whispers her secrets
of the clamor in the clutter
and of hearing a faint gasp for air.

Outstretched lines with rings cling to the sea;
a mother's arms reaching out in a wet embrace
that goes unmet and paints the picture grim
with safety orange reminders filled with solitude.

Leeward journeys turn rampant hard rough collide;
a starboard rolling void dancing macabre
with the cold flows of winter giving
a blue sarcophagus for those the river call.

21 Feb 04