Massacre at stillbrook

• Michael Glines, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2004

In a still disorder i come to
and the moon beckons me forth
all in hopes i might recall my name
i row the boat ashore

murder is on my lips
terrified i cannot speak
and if ever you let me go
i swear
i will return for you

a consolation beneath my feet
soft earth and a thought i might remember
sweat and fog roll off my nose
i drop down to my knees

a fever is on my soul in the deep of my lung
but i must i will stay awake
for if ever another should sleep on the shoal here
i know
he surely will not wake

murder is on my lips on the tip of my tongue
but i'll not say a word
and should ever the sun shine again
i swear
i will remember you.