The Body In Coldwash River

The edges of her lips have taken a blue tint
Floating on drift wood, arms out, like Christ
The glare of a frozen November morning
Reflects off her eyeballs, yet goes unseen
The guppies are still rush downstream at her feet
Where one shoe has gone missing
And her dress has frayed
A bitter chill bites the audience
Where the younger ones wonder
Ot taking a stick
To lift her hair from the water
Like the stringy river plants
That float on the stream
Here in her sepulcher, the sounding sea,
With no one to lie by her side, no darling,
Forgotten, nobody's bride
Jane Doe, the body in Coldwash river
Is caught on a rock
And washed clean for the spectacle.

Written September 2022

Take me back.

Take me home.