Treasure Island

clarence brown

(Charlottesville VA.)

Baptism


This river turns a grindstone as its' water tumbles me
to its' sharpest rocks and deepest depths

Scraped thinner, shaven cleaner, purified over mossey
stones where my dross is lost
I am ground down, shaken down to my barest essence

The finest of meal

Feet of clay now washed away as I stand dripping, looking
back over the distance the water has rolled me

Many gods have fallen from my pockets and sunk into sand

at the waters' edge where I fell in

on the bottom where they remained as I left the water

Still, they mouth silent promises they would never have kept

Under water, trapped in bubbles, their words go unheard

As the bubbles rise to the surface, they burst and still

I hear nothing

Submitted: Friday, November 20, 2009
Edited: Wednesday, April 06, 2011

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