Brandon Fick has a B.A. Honours Degree in English from USask and a Writing Diploma from St. Peter’s College, and is currently pursuing an MFA in Writing at USask. Brandon has previously been published in in medias res and The Society. “Salem Night” was written after a trip to Salem, Massachusetts, and meditates on the town’s storied history.
Salem Night
Among the tombstones in Salem,
Gloomy eve rising like frost on an October morn,
Charter Street settles into bardo
Beyond the hungry eyes of interlopers;
Darkness veils the living who venture to gawk
At the Fisherman’s cracked bones,
The Puritan’s solemn epitaph,
The Captain’s limp flag;
All this, the living retreat from at dusk
When the last rays recede below the harbor
And the squirrels scurry up the elms
And the leaves rustle no more;
To sleep among the dead is a matter of faith,
A dare for some rebel or an odd descendant,
Face to ground, flesh to dust,
The invisible line we all must cross.
Imagine now, it is you, prone among the stones
And suddenly there is a tear,
A hand shatters the divide and gropes the moon
And the vision of dust arisen silences your scream;
What convulsions would seize the body
Were it to acquaint with fanatic Judge Hathorne
Of the three-month reign of terror
In One Thousand, Six Hundred Ninety-Two?
A sadist and zealot like he would terrify
Both living and dead, accused and unaccused,
And to see him shamble down the path
One could be forgiven for invoking The Devil;
Look back not too far, interloper,
Or you may enter the bardo,
As what is dust by daylight transforms
Into gnarled, fervent fingers of night.
You can follow Brandon on Instagram @brafic98 and on Twitter @Brafic98.
This piece is part of the in medias res Jan. 2021 “Reflection” Issue. You can read the full issue under the tag “Jan. 2021.”
Image: Tombstone from Parochial and Family History of the Parish of Blisland (1868) by Sir John Maclean (Public Domain)