- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Scraps
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Click hereTrees bloomed from the little river
like colored lights from a crystal.
Sunlight found its way through swift
unworried fish, through water hyacinths,
through reeds, to the bright sand
which supported the gentle water.
The man’s bare shoulders alternately kissed
shadow and sunlight; his canoe
moved silently from bend to bend.
The woman in front sat still and watched for signs.
Turtles slept thickly on damp logs.
Egrets found the steps they had forgotten.
Spanish moss was curious in the trees.
Narrows quietly deepened. There were children.
Sometimes the sand reached up to touch the boat.
At the end of the run, a sign said softly, “Please.”
But he threw bread and bitten disks of meat:
raccoons boiled at the riverbank for scraps.
- COMMENTS
Reltneover 19 years agoI do like this poem. My only problem with it is that I keep reading it as an aboriginal vignette. The "sign" at the end weakens it for me. The contrast between today and the distant past is good. . . after you have finished reading the poem, but I think you might want to find a way to heighten it.
(I personally would prefer it to be purely an Indian poem.) ;)
champagne1982over 19 years agofor a hotdog.
Thanks for sharing your vision of a paddle out on a sunny day.
flyguy69over 19 years agoMany excellent images here-- I love the egrets peering down as they search for forgotten steps! Wonderfully captures the moment in language befitting the experience.
