Waters still and green, not of vegetation but of night and winter…
Umber washes canvas the sky, cradling fusion’s great seed while moon
dust descends over waters still and green.
Lost cities anchor upon the leys and send their women like mirrored images in
dance beyond your reach, taunting as crows will chide the fields they have cleaned.
You wake besotted and mad, seated cross-legged with beggars and cads, wishing
just once to taste waters still and green.
Silence, a man-print in the snow, his far voice carries through the darkness and trees.
Stars needn’t guide one whose origins are so near and terrifying. “My blood is burning!”
he cries…then drinks from waters still and green.
~ Melvin Litton’s stories have appeared in Mobius, Foliate Oak, Floyd County Moonshine, Pif, Chiron Review, First Intensity, with poetry forthcoming in Broadkill Review and Spartan Press. He has two published novels: Geminga, a man/raven fable concerning the Shining Path in Peru (III Publishing, 1993); and I, Joaquin, a fictional memoir of the Gold Rush bandit, Joaquin Murrieta, as told by his head encased in alcohol (Creative Arts Book Co., 2003) – both available in new editions from Crossroad Press. He is a retired carpenter and lives in Lawrence, KS with his wife Debra. He also writes and performs songs solo and with the Border Band: www.borderband.com