Don't Answer the Bell

By morning the boy had a mark on his chest,
Three crooked black fingers pressed into his flesh.
He swore that a woman stood under the pine,
With water-black hair in his father's old eyes.
She said, "Bring me your brother,
Bring me your name." He dropped that old bell,
But it rang just the same.
His brother went missing before supper was done,
And wet little footprints led up to the sun.
Don't answer the bell in the mountain,
Don't follow the voice through the fern.
Some doors have no hinges or handles,
Some just remember who you were.
Now, every fall when the creek runs high,