Literature
The Body in The Water
Folded along the crevices where the river meets sand
lies the body of our love, now it’s edges covered in moss.
It stays there, where the water still sings hymns to the land,
little realizing that you cannot turn holy a decaying corpse.
And I still visit and fold my hands in prayer,
even though seeing what is left of our love
leaves me feeling so alone and scared
undone at the watery seams, cursing every star above.
Some days I return with eyes so red my mother worries
she warns me that the river can never heal what fell apart
but I always return to the alcove of where we are buried.
I am still offering the water my swollen, moon soak