A CABIN IN KING AND QUEEN COUNTY

TAYLOR PURCELL

Paul Simon hums into a cascade Through these greying wooden walls, and feet Dance across splinters while the sun fades.

The hill just outside the door falls deep Towards murky swamps. I will soon see Crawfish digging their homes, and the beat

Of the paddle against swells will free A rustle of the wind to grow to rhythms On my cheek. But for now I’m smelling tea

Through my lips and I watch the schism Of the sun on the horizon. Light Rains on the sky, leaving puddles smitten

With the moon. My hammock, on midnight Blackwater, swings. My hair dangles, Twisting into a shaggy dog. Tightly

Shut are the doors of a car, fangled With weeds and mold, that stares, without time, Through me. It looks past a tangling

Rocky road towards the Mattaponi.