Bearing
Corpses
The river
Runs high
In this time
Of plague
And famine
The young,
The old,
The poor-
Drift
Beneath
The branch
Where you
Lounge,
Sharp stick
In hand,
Prodding
Them
As they drift by-
Humans, che!
Too stupid
To live,
Too stupid
To die
Jeering,
You thrust,
Foul, air
Escapes-
Its all
Theyre good
For-

Eyes closed
A girl
Drifts
Past,
Long hair
Blossoming
Dark
In the flood,
You pause.
My mothers
Hair was like this
The day...
The day...
...the day
They laid her out

Dropping
Your stick,
You flee,
As she
Drifts toward
The sea,
Trying to
Forget.