Window on Pamet Marsh

by deirdri reddington

for maya

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.

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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.