Harper's Ferry, 2010

There is a door just up river painted green

where two white torrents clash with spray,

inside where wispy rope fray curls unseen

that bound the wool wrapped corpse that lays

just down river in the bent autumn reeds

with black boots and face turned downward

looped with sisal and gauntly hidden needs.

Who would dare to turn that grey face skyward?

Behind the quiet door that is painted sickly green

the deed completed as the candle's scarlet dripped,

the pierced body wrapped and silence dragged unseen

to the rushing river with rough wool shroud unripped,

hidden until rosy springtime when the flood

will rinse the clues without a trace of blood.

[Note: I really don't care much for explanatory notes re: poetry since

I believe the poem is just the poem but, in this case, I will allow for an

exception. At Harper's Ferry, while strolling along the river, just at the

point where the Potomac and the Shenandoah rivers meet, there is a

corpse shrouded in a woolen blanket wrapped in sisal rope. I suspect

it's part of the exhibit, but it was shocking to see and there is still a

nagging doubt in my mind.]