Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Howard's Creek

Howard’s Creek opens
its arms wide
and shakes out
fanged alligators like dice.
Past the curve of the land,
past the ibis and frogs,
past the decaying reeds and grass fern,
houses on the right side,
in complete boredom,
embrace one another as
haughty repetitions of themselves.
The left side wraps around
the woods and brush,
partly cleared for a park,
which I observe while strolling
on the bridge and imagining
where the gator got the boy,
and since then,
how a house on the right side
stayed empty, catching the mud
from the water on its cheeks.
And I ask: How can we bargain
with a creek or ever be through
with our goodbyes?