Muse of the Day
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Waking on the River Styx

flat on my back, my eyes open
to darkness, I sit
up quickly, then freeze, feeling
the boat rock and shift

the air is heavy
with wails and groans, the closest
weighted cries of grief

arms reach out of black water
stretch towards the boat
fingers scraping against wood
grips too weak to hold

the riverbank looms
a fiery orange shore
then an endless gloom

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