POTN 6

POETRY  |  FICTION

The Petrified Man

by Jacie Ragan, art by Alfred Klosterman

Dug up from the peat bog,
faint-smelling of whiskey,
a tall, pale man with braids
of garlic twined in his hair.
Skin the color of ice on a lake,
hands twisted across his chest,
clutching a thick wooden arrow,
crucifix pressed to his throat.

They stood him up against the stile
to wait in chill amethyst twilight
for the archaeologist from Dublin.
The arrow fell out, upon the ground.
The children climbed up, dancing,
and stole away the braided garlic.
A beggar snatched the silver cross
that glittered like ice in moonlight.

By dawn the corpse had vanished
like the ice that disappears in sun.
Instead, a bloodless shepherd leaned
against the wall. No petrified man,
no weapon, no footprints were ever found.