WALTER
By MDJGussak
By MDJGussak
There lurks an unkindness around Walter
as he boards the sternwheeler Nenana bound
for Fairbanks. Visible between the taffrails
a wicked shadow shivered bleeding from
the Tongass forest. Encouraging him with crimson
Devils Club berries, bitter with treachery. Grab-thieves
hungry for his belongings and breath. All Walter seeks
is a small grubstake for his own poke. Just a tiny shimmer,
a nugget to help pay his way. North to home,
and a sense of somewhere to belong. The Nenana
turned on its heels, STEER COURSE bellows
the crusty old salt, skyward in the helm. His voice
barely heard over the keow mew ha-ha,
of a scavenging group of Glaucous Winged Gulls.
Walter catches a glimpse of his reflection rippling
distorted in the wake. Scraggy unshaven face, sunken grey
skin, draped in tattered torn clothing, unrecognizable
as his mother’s son. Was he a gudgeon to travel this route?
There is time to ponder, to set fears at ease, to guard against
the perils. The journey home is long. Walter
checks the time on his pocket watch, confirming
the glow in the distance. He dissolves into a corner
on the back deck, turns up the collar of his coat,
and settles in for the first of many long restless nights.
...
