Black River - Major Parkinson, Annette Kathinka Servan

Howling from the heathers in the glooming mire

To clam me on slender pass

The billow turned the birches to redundant snacks

Unavowed, we stood like icicles

In the black river

Yesterday, she was pulled out from the river

Wearing a silver bracelet and a bucket of stones around her pretty neck

Holding an empty canvas to a mirror

I pictured myself alongside of the girl on the bridge just the morning of the

fall

When she was staring into the hollow abyss, luminous slipping into the bog

The black river…

Silent cafter caters by the rivulets, hovering the High-land glass

Waiting in the horror by the silhouettes

Everyone you know shall pass never to feel comfort in the arms of a stranger

Howling from the heathers in the glooming mire

To clam me on slender pass

The billow turned the birches to redundant snacks

Unavowed, we stood like icicles

The black river

The black river

Stop!

My little child, you won’t get further than this

I see you smile, under the frozen abyss

We reconcile, we’re past-dimential and vile

The both of us

Let’s get together and dance into the void until it stares into our souls

So Hush, my little child!

Come join the purgatory trip

Through your denial

Among the carpenter bees, and honey pies

We see the home that you left, you were a child

I was your daddy back then, so spend a tender when your mourning slip into your

dreams

Scarlet staturines, tuffy puddles, bada-bits and baseball figurines

Forever and ever, bury 'em in the cold

THE BLACK RIVER!

THE BLACK RIVER!

THE BLACK RIVER!