Paying the Ferryman
Dead water
laps grey
surface folds
and gulls screech
in vulture
circles. Fight back
tears, spiderweb mist and
sweet perfume. No
life, breath, hope, father
and son, even
the devil must pay
the ferryman. Cover
their tracks. Polythene
cracks, neck itches, a
cold flame, escape eye-contact.
Slip stone, stuck in the
throat, under
the surface. I’m
looking down on
me. Doubt. Dead
water
calm, unable to
swallow. Face away, she wears
rocks and
anchors us
down.
Anthony Arnott lives in Ormskirk, Lancashire and is currently working towards an MA in Writing Studies at Edge Hill University. Along with poetry, he enjoys writing fifty-word stories and has had work published in Peggy’s Blue Skylight, First Edition Magazine, Question Mark, The Journal, Streetcake Magazine, 50 to 1, Postcard Shorts, as well as in anthologies such as The Strand Book of International Poets 2010 and Liquid Gold. A keen reader, Anthony has read in support of Jerome Rothenberg.