Trudging
through sand
to mourn
fifty-seven alewives
washed up on shore.
Tears fall
on the altar
of silver bodies
in noontime sun.
The cantor says
the Talmud says
a funeral procession
must yield
to a wedding march.
You wade
ten inches east
water pools
around your feet
and little fish nibble
your ankles.
From Unsalted Blue Sunrise: Poems of Lake Michigan by Kathryn P. Haydon (Prairie Cloud Press, 2023)