Diviner

for Brian Freil

How does one search for a missing man?

Attend to the seedy violences of American charlatanism
Witness, moon, fool
But Irish Jack, he went down like a knife

How does one search for a drowned man?

Under withered sun, my miner’s hat
The dark as a lone trout

Rest together: a silverplate spoon and a salted plank of the ship choked in weeds
Toss a rib bone, eight vertebrae, one quietly smoothed pebble of pepper-flecked quartz
Wear your good raincoat

Mortal heart buried in strange mortal soil

“some proposed pouring petrol on portions
of the lake and igniting it to give them light,”

Whispered visitations
A reedy, paper wail
Two corks

I’m sure I said, I love you, too