Poetry
Saint Marys River
by Harold O. Wilson
Calling forth her waters from the swamp
She eased over me
An amber flow
Lifting me from the sandy floor
To hold me suspended
In liquid peace
Insensate, pitiless
She sought the seams
And filled the crevices of my body
With current’s rivulets
To caress me tenderly
Into forgetfulness
In starlight’s fading
She gently then
Sent velvet fingers
And tangled hair
To carry me unsuspecting
To her salty lair in the lime green sea