As a child
on the banks
of Greenbriar
Lake he dreamt
the hills on the
far shore were
the bones of
ancient sea
creatures.
This, a claw
that, it's lobster.
Skeletons covered
in the moss of
untold eons--
copperhead under
skunk fern under
tulip poplar.
His mooneyes saw
the world wild
and in danger
of being swallowed
by a mouth of fire,
this cool drop in
all that burning.
D. Hartley
Saturday, July 18, 2009
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