My bug spray is wearing off,
but pain is pleasure here in this maritime jungle
full of foreign flora
and desires waiting to be kindled--
or perhaps simply remembered.
I struggle to pull back the hazy curtains
that dim my curiosity--
curtains draped slowly over my youth's adventurous imagination
when I began to hunger for all-consuming love
and a safe place to dream.
I will put myself in steel boots
and become a Spanish explorer.
A conquistador of my senses,
I will take in the magnolia carpet
and palmetto bones,
avoid the giant sentinel spiders guarding the narrow path,
gaze on the muscadine fruit as one seeking sustenance in a New World.
We circle the slough
where Carboniferous dragonflies skizz and stare
close to my ear--
can they read my murky thoughts?
Shriek!!
A venemous snake?!
No--
only a dried palmetto frond
that I rattled with my steps.
Listen!
The faint pound of Native drums?
No, only a pileated woodpecker
drilling holes for his supper.
Would that he would drill a hole in my mind
to drain the lethargy
that maturity cunningly cast about me
under the guise of knowledge.
--L.H.
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