Glistening from His Lips
Soft specters slip among the sliding spills
Of water sent along the stream. We hear
No screams from ghosts but each one causes chills
For unsuspecting swimmers. Whispers clear
The movement of the flowing so we do
Not feel the threat but always it swerves there.
A little gurgling death is hunkered through
The swirls, a girl’s throat condemned will flare
With suffocation by these speechless wraiths.
The children were just playing laughter back
And forth. The water swallowed her. No faiths
Can resurrect her. She lies cold and slack.
Her father does the wailing that the stream
Withheld. We almost see his sorrow’s gleam.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Apr 7, 2025 | DE, DR |