The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by Judith McCombs
TURTLE POND, CRAB-APPLES IN BLOOM
Who designed thisslow-motion combat, this primeval
embrace? Why the pale snake neck
arching for air, flopping over,
wounded or spent? and the other's head
lifting from the center of ripples,
wordlessly hissing? Pulled
and repelled, we look elsewhere, trade stories
of sharp beaks slicing into the soft
duckling or swimmer.
Mysteriousand unbeautiful, souls hidden
by shells, the air-breathers rest
side by side in the quieted waters.
But soon they're at it again,
this antediluvian display
and testing of power that is nearer,
much nearer, to our sort of clasping
and grappling than all the petals
that ever there were, floating
like down on this apple-flanked pond.
ROCK, WATER, ROOT: A SHORT HISTORY
Rock blocked water:
Water fought rock.
Water brought root:
Rock lodged root.
Root caught water:
Root broke rock.
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