Faculty favorite poem

by Karla Huston
favored by BJ Best

Now as the ice begins its slow
spring shrinking from the lakeshore,

fishermen will drop anchor and like spiders
cast their lines, and the boys will be found,

the two who disappeared one November
storm ago. When they are discovered,

their families might finally be released from grief,
finally free to let them go, but a different

ache will lure them, and they will know
there is no getting beyond the pull of the shore.

And the boys—they are tired of floating
under the water’s thick shell, tired

of sturgeon gnawing their skin, tired of their
thin and drifting hair, of hands grasping

at prayers. They’ll be glad to be found–
if the dead are glad of anything–

after all those months of freefall,
the rising that always comes in spring.


Read more from this Wisconsin poet here.


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