Swamp Thing-ing my way up into
the coves with crime and no clothes
clinging to me, I frightened even
the oldest fishermen. Doubling back
past each shoreline, drawing helicopter
seeds to my skin out of thin air,
I’m looking for landmarks, elemental
traces of vegetation and your hair’s shape
burned into a maple’s trunk. I’m tracking
the twigs that snapped where, ten years
ago, I loved you loud enough to wake
sleeping fish, geese, and god–who had
forgotten for a while
that I was something under his thumb.
Jason Braun has published fiction, poetry, reported or been featured in Prime Number, ESPN.com, Squalorly, The Nashville City Paper, Jane Friedman’s blog, Lowestoft Chronicle, The Monarch Review, The Chronicle of Higher Education, and many more. He also makes apps and music which you can find out about at: jasonandthebeast.com.