Seeing the Yazoo

​Once the dead were just across a river
I recalled that seeing the Yazoo
No boatman upstream but a winch
and a rusted platform
to take oneself across by pulleys and ropes
Cypress on the far side
seemed expectant and gathered at the edge
A shadow was breathing for my shirt

Complex is inexhaustible  The world is
everything and what imagination adds 
​You can see how enormous this gets

Instead of crossing we wrote our wishes 
on paper boats and sent them downstream