Window on Pamet Marsh
by deirdri reddington
Heron stands, neck a blade of salt grass
genuflecting skyward like your hands
in tree pose, your heart in re-pose, safe,
though sometimes scared of what’s to come.
I wanted to write you a love poem, so many times
a love poem, but the dog keeps barking
calling my attention to his persistence
and a blue ball that smells like bacon.
I watch the sun bounce
off Pamet Marsh, muddy banks like Irish bogs
bring me to myself, to you, to the scent of your neck
at dusk. I wanted to write you a love poem, so many
times a love poem, but you’re working late
and I’m in mourning, heron flies prehistoric wings
stretched wide, come my darling sit
and watch with me a while. I wanted to write
you a love poem so many times
a love poem so many times
a love poem.
Deirdri Reddington (she/they) is a genderqueer poet who splits their time between Boston and Truro, MA on Cape Cod. They are currently at work on a collection of poems which tend the grief over the death of their mother.