Chatmon River

A poem about a fictional river, a fictional town, and a fictional man running from his actions.

The midnight waters of the Chatmon River

Flow like black silk blown by a springtime breeze,

A raft clings to the current, moving down stream

Towards the Mississippi town of Chickadee

The tangle of brush on the shore nearby

Receives the slapdash vessel of walnut logs,

A man-shaped shadow leaps up,

Tears into the thicket of woods, unseen by all

As he stops to rest upon a fallen tree

He buries his face in his sinful hands,

Shrouded within the hush of night,

On deaf ears his sorrowful keening lands.

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Short, simple and without unnecessary yielding, well done, good read.