Lethologica
There’s no good
reason
to swallow
your words.
Let them float
past
the tip of your
tongue.
Say what you need
to say now,
because you’ll be
a ghost
soon
enough.
Those white shoes
you have on
look
just like chickens,
and
there’s alligators
waiting
right down the bank.
Ghost Swell, Henderson
“Find beauty, be still.”—W.H. Murray
This swamp never stops breathing.
Find shade somewhere
and string up a hammock.
Close your eyes. The bug whine
dips and swells, water
laps against the roots
of trees. You’ll learn to hear
distance, the sharp flaps
of wings. Quiet your mind
and you may even pick out
claws scratching down cypress bark.
Keep at this until the sun
drops past the tree line and you’ll
feel the hum of spirits
gathering on the lake’s surface.
Remember, you are always free
to linger here. Just be still.
Mind your beating heart.
Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. Jack’s work has appeared in Southern Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, Pidgeonholes, The Shore, Juke Joint, Okay Donkey, EcoTheo, The Hopper, Terrain, Kissing Dynamite, and other journals. His latest collection is No Brother, This Storm (Mercer University Press, 2018). He served as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017–2019.
photo by Elvis Bekmanis (via unsplash)
Crow & Cross Keys 