Saint Paul, 15 December 2005
South of the Metedeconk
On a limb of silvery driftwood
Once felled by carpenter ants
Stabbed to outstretched summers
Like a memoir pinned to a stag spindle
On a empty map dated 1778
Lies a bay called Musketo Cove
In solemn disremembered shores
Pre-pubescent potions prolonged by
Inkberry holly bushes and crab bait killifish
A briny swill of last impressions
Tuesdays on my Schwinn Stingray
Tailing candied clouds of mosquito trucks
No one noticed I was gone
For weeks at a time
Notes:
Musketo Cove was the name of Silver Bay, NJ; location of our shore house.