Read Write Poem for those days when you’d rather be swaddled in a blanket, eating a home made pie and nursing a hangover.

How could that still water

Hide her bloody body.

You would think, she would rise up

And the dense and muddy

Sediment would destroy

Apparent calm.

How could that mirage

Of twin sunsets on the water

Make a mockery of murder

In its falsely delicate display?

I can see her rising softly

I can see her talon arms

Stretching up in dirty tendrils

Scrappy now, and harmed.

I can see the lolling circles

I can see the white affliction

Of her drifting sole memorial

Catching on the prows of boats.

So why the seeming stillness,

Why the falsely welcome calm,

When beneath that tranquil surface

She waits with outstretched arms?