At night the dead come down to the river to drink. They unburden themselves of their fears, their worries for us. They take out the old photographs. They pat the lines in our hands and tell our futures, which are cracked and yellow. Some dead find their way to our houses. They go up to the attics. They read the letters they sent us, insatiable for signs of their love. They tell each other stories. They make so much noise they wake us as they did when we were children and they stayed up drinking all night in the kitchen.
From The Water Inside the Water, 1994
Copyright 1994 by Susan Mitchell.
All rights reserved.
Reprinted by permission of Harper Perennial from The Water Inside the Water. Copyright 1994 by Susan Mitchell.
Susan Mitchell (1944- ) is the author of three poetry collections, including Erotikon (HarperCollins, 2001). Her poems have appeared in magazines and journals such as The New Yorker andAtlantic Monthly, among others.