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.
Inky Cat's Poems 