He died with his arms out,
nudged downstream by the current
to the bank at the foot of the graveyard
where local boys swam, belly-diving
in and chasing the geese away.
(One of them found him. He used a stick)
When the police came to take him away,
those arms, held as if he was waiting
to be pulled up, or just caressing
the warm spring air,
wouldn’t go into the body bag.
Someone had to break those arms,
but nobody wanted to touch him.
[…] A quick update on poetry stuff! I now have an author page on newwriting.net, and my poem ‘Body’ (published in the UEA Undergraduate Anthology) can be found on their site here. […]