Tamarack Swamp

A wooden path gets us
close to a pitcher
plant colony. I leave planks
to drop my eyes
into the biggest one. You stay

on the path, snap pictures.
I had forgotten spongy
sphagnum moss, crash
right through. Wet socks,

shins. I look at you,
a few steps ahead,
wonder what I’m not seeing,
what dangers hide. Silent,

we keep walking.

 

originally appeared in the Kansas City Star

Published by

Kenneth Pobo

Kenneth Pobo has six full-length collections of poetry and, including Ice And Gaywings, twenty chapbooks. His latest book, from Blue Light Press, is called Bend Of Quiet, and Booking Rooms in the Kuiper Belt is forthcoming from Urban Farmhouse Press. Ken began writing at age fifteen. He teaches creative writing and English at Widener University in Chester, Pennsylvania. He and his partner and two cats enjoy gardening, music, and the Wisconsin Northwoods. Catch Ken’s radio show, Obscure Oldies, on Saturdays from 6:00-8:30 pm EST at WDNR 89.5 FM.