Unidentified

by Donald Illich

I am the body floating in the lake.
No one talks about me. I’m embarrassing.

For a human form to lose its life in water.
To forget about swimming and storms.

Someone will have to drag it out with a pole.
Someone will be the first witness of its pale skin,

waterlogged flesh. The police, ashamed,
will drive to the lake, where they’ll declare it

an accident, the drowning. With that,
everyone will return to their business.

The boy on the rock keeps dreaming.
The bait salesman moves his worms

in the cooler. The professional fishermen
will continue throwing out their lines.

I’ve been loaded into the morgue.
One crying mother comes to identify me.

But I’m not her son.
I’m not who she thinks I should be.

Donald Illich has published poetry recently in The MacGuffin, Slant, and Okay Donkey. His book is Chance Bodies (The Word Works, 2018). He lives and works in Maryland.