Water Over the Bridge

The distant laughter of a child drifted slow from out of sight, somewhere warm and undefiled, over the festival lights of the night gently flaring out bright and unrivaled, they whisper of creatures that wistfully, might, gather unraveled in village-bound aisles, lying unfound inside valley bent rivers that cry abound under the bridge it’s said, others who fall in the waters will be found delivered; they’ve wandered in farther, tar seeps from their armor, it forms ceremonial mantles of colors churning around them like ink in a cask; inside the village and moving up onward the wanderers now stand in front of the masked- creatures so long and pulled- thin by the tying coats wrapping their bundles of eyes to the dress, talisman lying close strung from the temple ropes, festival-goers now lean in to dance.