Black Work

On the fingers of little thieves a soft cruel fog creeps in from the Gulf
swallowing bouy and boat in its ghostly wake .
It steals through historic harbor blanketeting oystermen and fishermen
who scurry before it for place and port.
Soft,still and never satified it clambers over old docks
 and gobbles up cobblestone allleys
 along raffish bars where neon floosies loiter as garish ghosts
 in panes of dirty moist glass .

Water ,sky , and land are one in this world
 ,transending time and space of the distant past in a wattery mirror of its
own .
Park and lawn of marbled white cemetery dishelved in age,
 and algae black
embrace its inky onslaught like long lost brothers united in death .
In the  city of the dead,  broken headstones float in a world of cloud and
illusion .
The stones invite departed spirits to gather and stare under weeping willows
among tattered hanging spanish  moss to witness
 as dark ,malicious robbers pry oppen their world in stealth
 to steal what isn't theirs.
This is ..Black Work.

I got a call to meet at 7:30 am at the old cemetery. There was a terrific
costal fog that morning  and the old grave yard was buried in  white blankets
 ; we met with archives and the state police and entered the tomb by 8 am ;
our initial findings were that this wasn't casual vandalism ; this was
something else. The crypts had been expertly broken into and  there was some
little ceremonial dolls placed in odd positions around the remains.
By 8;15 we had determined the skulls had been stolen. Thats  as much as I can
share right now.  Best Michael

--
To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>