On Blennerhassett Island With Walt Whitman
He sat on this patch of turf,
and if not this exact place a piece of a place nearby.
Naturally, I try to feel his companionship.
Did he write a line of poetry on this small island
or was he simply being Walt Whitman,
honored guest,
a person he hardly recognized from his youth?
I feel his old bones not his youthful step
but also his long poems
as they ride Ohio river currents
at ease with the next slow bend,
or some quick kink and churn of its history.
I imagine his hand on the ground,
it heaves my body up from a deep grass
and quilts me to a terrain
where fingers meet on a shared wrist
a place where heron wings beat.
I feel the mutuality of crossed roads,
the cadence of shore eddies
as they unbutton a coat
he left draped over a rail of this wooden jetty.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment