strange magnetism

easter vigil.

"The Merry Cemetery," Romania 

Mothman?

dragging like dead men on the river

  darkness falls on the salt farm

  island shadows are carried on the wind

  soaked fish in water

  white snow fogging the surface

  through a scrapped vessel’s window, the reflection of the river’s darkness

  a stain seagulls left on the cabin floor

  water at night peeling off the scales of fish

  the collarbone of the clouds reflect the distant light of a house in mourning

  eyes come to see the ebbing tide blur the salt farm

and at night evaporate to white

  as a man placing a stone on his injured horse

  sinking it into the river and returning

  here is the landscape that wind might have painted

  spreading the white sound of water like words from the dead

  inside the sea without light, why don’t we call that sound the soul

  red doesn’t spread across the sky, red crosses underwater

  for many thousands of years watch the bitter light of the river rolling

  the water’s internal organs to see