From Otoliths

VIGIL

Sailors just grabbed what they could—
a Bible, a blanket— as the ship broke apart
in blue wind, red rain, nightmarish pink seas.

Back on land, graves vomited up the dead.
Any storm that terrible used to be given
a woman’s name. Tonight people are singing

outside the church while lighting candles.
Some of us can hear distinct words, but others,
only sobs or sighs. This place will burn.

© Howie Good 2018