Poets and Poems - Carol Peters

Swamp Fox Passage

And along the track, white sand
   and orange needles
in the narrow stretches, close-hauled shrub
   and shallow pools of rainwater
beyond the track, the swamp like an inland sea
mirrors in all directions
   so that the track seems a fragile dike
and the flooded pools, home to demons
seething, flicking their tails, the black tongues
anticipating dark delight
   a lone rider
pedaling like Fortune's child
   and her eyes peering forward to see what's coming
without a thought
   for beasts sunken in dark water
and when the bicycle's wheels are slinging rooster tails
   her socks and shoes brown with mud
a demon breaches
   and like Cupid's poison arrow, knocks her down.

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