Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

Waters Crossed

Waters Crossed
As you crossed
the waters
beneath which
Indians are buried,
massive steel arches
towered above you,
an erector set
blown out of proportion.

Darkness came early;
the chill hung
like frozen hogs
in a slaughterhouse.

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4 thoughts on “Waters Crossed

  1. Northern despair served here nicely not the currently more popular Southern-style anger. Rusting, fading away not burning out.

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  2. Love to hear you write more about the above. Drawing as well.

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  3. I love the images in this one. The first stanza doesn’t seem to judge. It’s not passionless, but rather impassive. The grotesque images of the second stanza cement a certain sadness to the piece.

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  4. Really like how you put it.

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