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A Sinking |
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The tops of trees are only visible. Boats across the water. Children swinging in the leftover branches, using their arms as rope. Monkey faces and their hands holding pissing members over the curtain of a boat, boy urine to water and words coming out: Get all of you back on the fucking boat. And then no cannonball response because the dead float by, all willed toward and how it goes. Face down their shirts soaked in water. Face up their eyes sometimes open and filling with miniature lakes, rivers down their temples, the children howling and their teeth useless fangs, toe-touching back onto their father's boat, watching the men and women go like lumber, down a world that is all water. |
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