THE BODY IN THE WELL

 

Even here, where the aquifers are spoken of

with a reverence strangers save for cathedrals,

it's rare to find a house like this, three stories

of gleaming limestone raised like a lantern

out of the rock, lit like a match when struck

by the stone of the clear moon, a pale flame.

 

The locals say the house was a dream of his,

climbing like a pyramid month on month:

building it was a way to forget. Make

this dream your own, the auction-catalogue

tells the buying public. The property

includes a well follows in a quieter font.

 

He would listen at the mouth in the floor

of the cellar, patient for the voice of the dark

in the sound of the stalagmites rising.

When he fell into its echoing heart

the waters gathered him with their song

and here, he remembered everything.