The Last Seminole
There were 10,000 islands
and I'd lost my soul
to the shadow of the mangrove.
She held her children at arms length,
fed them my reflection -
built them pedestals from mud
and my silent presence.
Above salt water, I hid
in secret rooms with alligators,
piling a mound for worship,
praying how to tell you
I died, sun-blind and alone
on the oyster shell steps of my own design,
a single soul devoured
in the shadow of the mangrove.
Poetry
Thursday, August 4, 2005
The Last Seminole
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Erin, this is beautiful. I really like the repetition of the mangrove line. It ties it all together.
ReplyDeletedarkly whimsical. so many good sprigs of imagery in here - adjectives intricately woven 'round nouns and phrases made of dreamthread - especially 'fed them my reflection' and 'died, sun-blind and alone', which also offers up a sacrifice befitting to the gods of internal rhyme.
ReplyDeletenow, why couldn't I say something like that? ditto
ReplyDeleteThanks guys! I wish I'd have written this BEFORE I submitted to the Tigettails Anthology though - it would have gone wonderfully into their theme and location. Oh well.
ReplyDelete