Louis E. Bourgeois
End of Fishing Season on Bayou SauvageLate October. The marsh dark brown,
spreads out to the Gulf of Mexico.
The figs in the yard picked over
by crows and blackbirds. Sunset,
and crabbers row in with their
nets for the last time. The skyline
suffuses blue and purple. A man
plays guitar on his porch steps
in the soft wind. Beyond the levee,
a lone pelican diminishes on the horizon.
BayouA boat burns on the shore.
Swallows rise through the smoke.
The tide has not stopped moving.
Silver carp gasp for thin air.
A gar keeps rolling on the surface,
Seeking its dark breath.
On the horizon, something falls
From the pink sky.
Not an angel or a man, something
Mechanical or only half alive.
In the grass, the stone dogs
Begin to coil their tails
And lick their purple gums.
Bio:
Louis E. Bourgeois is an instructor of English at Rust College in Holly Springs, Mississippi. His most recent collection, OLGA, is forthcoming in the fall by WordTech.
