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Saturday, October 13, 2018

101318



Denisova


Old man swings his legs
blue-gray water surges
crabs scuttle among the rocks
he looks across the water to the sunrise
where are his people?

The hills are bare
across the sea and under it
he cannot find them
he can smell the new folk
on the tall islands
once, he adopted some of the new children
they carved his face in stone
turned on him at the end
but a forest grows as it must.

The new folk swept the others before them
but he contemplates adopting again
or he could rise up over the sea
he could live among them
he could find a woman
bring his people back the old-fashioned way
one child at a time.


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