Poem: Quagmire Kinfolk

Quag(mire) kinfolk

the girl in the marsh was me
when I was small and we were lost
I left the hurt there in the marsh
to be cleansed by mists
(to be) wavering weeds
the girl in the marsh was me
and I was younger then but
not                       so young
as to meet dread for the first time
he and I walked alongside
grassy heaps
and ferried our secrets
the girl(in)               the marsh was me
I left her there to wait on my return…
the marsh,  she           knew all
about the low hanging fog
and the weight
of water
in the
quag

–ECW

 

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