The Word for the River that Takes from the River

 
 

 

When the cars on the overpass      see me

it will be          out of context—knee deep in a bay
lined with horse bones         sorting my nets

as one prepares the body for sleep.

To the jet trails          more of the same—

they look on me as the half moon shape
before anything         incomplete
the broken mix of shale and millstone

the marbled sound floor.

I’ve been told good legs carry a good man
but the catch says none of this—

Each loose vertebrae snagged with the bluefish
brine eaten and amnesiac.

The jawbones unanswered.
I pretend        to believe in marrow

in the muck boots and waders
in the open cast         to the plainspoken cooler.
I walk through the channel depths

a blind man with alien feet          my body
a body by namesake.

 

Object

Animal Bones

Body of Water

Dead Horse Bay

About the Artist

Matthew Zingg’s work has appeared in Cider Press Review, Opium Magazine, The Madison Review and The Awl among others. He received his MFA in poetry from Adelphi University and is a co-founding member of the writers collective, 1441.