after Li Po
1.
A long hot summer, deserted water
Menominee River will return your sorrow.
Unable to gauge the grief of the families,
I climb the train bridge to Wisconsin’s side
gaze into Michigan, the distance of loss.
I look down at the river flowing past,
it never ceases unless the dam breaks.
I ask the water: will you remember
nothing of them as you carry their names
and each fistful of tears so very far?
2.
Menominee River’s white-tail deer are countless,
a flurry of leaps, colored leaves falling
coax spotted fawn out of the autumn woods
they frolic, drink the sun from the water.
3.
Meandering river, in sadness I gaze
into blossoms of red, sorrow follows you
under the bridge, no matter which side,
the water flows, but I can no longer look.
4.
Along the Menominee River banks
Michigan’s woodlands are unforgettable,
the blue sky open, granite spilling ridges,
white water washes the rumble of stones.
5.
Hundreds of white pines spread away here,
a hundred stands of maple trees ignite,
broad-winged hawks fly the endless ridges,
unseen, gray wolves night after night howl
stay away form the Menominee River,
the great-horned owl cries, warns of sorrow.
6.
The burning sun heats up the river
scorches the sands, three crows gather.
He heard them laughing together
near the water, made them take flight.
7.
On a slab of concrete at the train bridge,
three white crosses and bouquets of flowers.
On the sand abandoned clothing is strewn,
on the waves wilted petals ebb and tide.
8.
The river’s a bolt of blue silk,
the shoreline stretches toward heaven
on the banks where children scattered
only hoof prints of the white deer.
9.
Train bridge mid-river at the swimming hole,
the Menominee’s depths pass underneath,
in rough waters, a boat rocks, deserted,
a round hole near the bottom, trying to sink.
10.
Campfire lights up the night sky,
from a leafless tree an owl whoos
on silent wings it whooshes by,
ghost stories are passed around.
