The Body Washed u/p on the Bank by John Grey

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Last night, at dusk, a young girl and boy

found a body washed up on the bank of a river.

They were just sixteen, out for a romantic scroll,

when they came across that woman.

The fading light made the smell even more overpowering,

darkened the green of her cheeks.

I’ve never come across a body.

It’s not like finding a much-desired gift

under the Christmas tree.

Or discovering, with fork in mouth, that I really do

love asparagus after all.

Or the revelation that I know the answers

to the test in front of me.

It’s surely the very opposite of these

and I can’t imagine what that would be like.

I can only wrap my head around

the absence of a gift,

the gruesomeness of an unlovely vegetable,

the repeated stonewalling of a question,

and I know that it is none of these.

Last night, at dusk, a…

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