matt's poetry pocketbook:
poems and poets

Wild Bay

Duane Locke

The wild bay galloped through my body.
Chiarra, you stood still, watched oyster clusters on the black mud.
I thought the wild bay galloped through your body also.
Since you disappeared, I now know.
When you stood by mangroves on the shore,
The wild bay did not gallop through you.
Inside you were ancestor's footsteps and their ancient close order drill.