Whenever she crosses the swamp,
she stops every quarter mile
to press her palm into the mud
at the base of palmettos. She knows
the swamp’s dead will rise up
toward the warmth she leaves,
the fan of her fingers glowing
in their dark heaven. Whatever there is
to learn from these depths
she draws toward the surface,
prays for it to follow her home
and spill itself out of the nets
she casts in her dreams, all open-eyed
and mouthing the sharp air.
Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. Jack’s work has appeared in Southern Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, Pidgeonholes, The Shore, Cotton Xenomorph, Okay Donkey, EcoTheo, The Hopper, Terrain, saltfront, and other journals. His latest collection is No Brother, This Storm (Mercer University Press, 2018). He served as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017-2019.