Stacie McCall Whitaker - Stone Coast, Maine


Written By: M. Drew Williams

The summer the boy died
is remembered for an outbreak
of arson. Because the tower,
made of smooth white stone,
would not burn, someone broke in,
clambered up its staircase,
and dented the bells—
bent their brass tongues
with the aid of a blowtorch.
For a time, it seemed
the bells died with the boy:
the hours passed discreetly,
without introduction.
At his wake, the boy wore
a blue tux: his face obliterated
by the strokes of a crowbar.
Sometimes I dreamt
that I shared his injuries,
and from a disembodied
point of view I’d watch us
run playfully through the streets,
oblivious to our blood-ruined shirts
and the fact that our heads
were beaten into the shape
of a crushed lima bean.
In other dreams, I acted
as the boy’s killer, and
when I struck his skull,
the sound of bells poured out
in place of blood. Upon
waking, I could not wash
the music from my hands.

About the Author

M Drew Williams / Campanile

M. Drew Williams currently lives in Omaha, Nebraska.  His poetry has appeared in, or is forthcoming from, publications such as The Oleander Review, DIALOGIST, and RipRap Literary Journal. He the author of the chapbook No Ghost Goes Unnoticed (Leaf Garden Press, 2016). He is an MFA candidate at Creighton University.

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