River Stone

Riverstone

Well, the dark is complete under this throbbing southern sky.

The Choptank River runs deep, and that bitch is two miles wide.

Mosquitoes, they whined as they circled my head

They wanted my soul, but I gave them – I gave them my blood instead.

Takes an iron fist, you said, to keep a child in line.

I was sixteen that year, and my destiny – well, I was sure it was purely mine.

The tide was rising, the sky turned red . . .

With the water so high, there was no place to bury our dead.