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The Drowned
There is a scar on the river
healing itself, running again
from the branch that is its source.
There is a willow bending
to touch its own reflection.
There is a ferris wheel
turning forever in air.
There isn’t a body
kneeling in the current.
There isn’t a voice leaning
on the river. There is the wind—
evidence of loss.
Before the drowned
go down they stop struggling,
and listen to their bodies.
The world above the water
is silent. They are free
to listen to the music
of the body echoing
inside before the silence
enters like a stone.
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