poem by John Grey
Heron steps nimbly across a floating mangrove island
of dangling roots and minnow cloisters,
more blue in its wings than in the darkening sky.
Swamp smells like a deer carcass in broth,
seethes with heat and insects
and a fading sun tangled in thick vine.
By the old moss-eaten fishing shack,
a gator’s immobile eyes lift above the surface.
Its news is bad but deftly worded.
Previously published in the Columbia College Literary Review.
©2017 John Grey
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Tau, Studio One and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Naugatuck River Review, Examined Life Journal and Midwest Quarterly.