Silent Witness

Cicada krill raining down.     
A thin yellow line skims        
the swamp's horizon        
as you come to witness mine,        
         
where split end shanks        
float among the        
bloated racks of sinew        
in tangled roots of bayou,        
         
to lie down with the maggot        
the way a sweat bead crawls        
and tells of my sin        
while mosquitoes imbibe.        
         
I rail against temptation        
to drown the shrill whistle        
from the winding        
of an old church spire,        
         
as it's the only place left        
befitting to take shelter        
with brethren reading o'er me        
under a slow moon rising.    



Photo by Renee Dawn.