(sawgrass and oil on road-kill alligator hide)

~Ray Hudson, 2017

The birds have gone.

No golden-slippered egret,

no blue-eyed cormorant,

no wading stork shielding

dark water with her wings.

Silence is absolute.



are weary, dusty.

In the fetid pools,

mosquitoes awaken.

Already the air

is thick with heat.


Alligator spoor—

dinosaur track,


marks the muddy flats

like the handwriting

of the blind.

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