THE LAUGHING BONE‎ > ‎WORD‎ > ‎POETRY‎ > ‎

Wind Under Water by B. Jones

So, with a broken throne,
the great gods mock that captive king.

- Melville




The well, the rope, the water
Mumuring 
In the depths of the stones. 

My line, trailing out, 
Forgotten, 
Like that axe I once lost in the woods. 

Years later, myself abandonded, 
Discovered 
Following a path going nowhere. 

Turned, still standing, struck, 
Rooted 
Through the rings of that lost time. 

Memories, dreams, reflections 
Whispering 
In the wind under the water. 

My hand, almost hopefully, 
Extended 
Towards that handle before me, flowering. 

Even now, myself remembering, 
Recovered 
Suddenly beneath the leaves. 

At the well, pulling up the rope, the bucket 
Broken, 
Filled with bones.