Dauphin Island

The rigs hum at night, mechanical giraffes
Ghost crabs scatter at the sound of our feet,
their eyes on tender stalks
Wary.
I would give 50 years of my life to be there again
The way it used to be
Imperfect and sediment-heavy
Already there was phenol in the water and
Mercury in the blood of the pelicans.
The marshes keep their secrets
They smell of old love affairs
Sulfur.
A blue heron waits
His back curved what an old man disappointed with life
And the live oaks stand witness
They scare us at night as we pass them on bicycles
Their moss hangs down whispering  You don’t know what I have seen.
I want you still god help me
Or if not you then a more vivid memory
I want to taste your salt air again your warm water
Forgive us, mother, for the mistakes that we are bound to make and the
million ways in which we have wounded you
I will find forgiveness when I die
Walking out past the children with the clam guns
(a crabber looks on)
Into the breaking waves
The oyster beds kiss my tender feet/

by Eleni Petrou, May 2010. Bob the house.