Savannah

History
comes to me,
a dim and starless
unsky.

The truth
lays in lies
by what they
deny.

The flower
in a name – magnolia
belies

the rain

wet green
bog vines

reach
grasp
smother

the rolling rumble
of the land

and the scent
of southern sweetbay

– Savannah.

I spent some time in the south and felt its heavy, rich presence which led my mind to this poem.