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Marc Swan


Marc Swan’s poems have recently been published in Big Muddy, Passager, Crannóg, Gargoyle, Toad Suck Review, Coal City Review, among others. He lives with his wife Dd in Portland Maine.

Slack Tide

When tide rises over red clay flats
of McCann Cove
after six hours falling—
the cycle of water life—
there’s a time of stillness.

A few crows caw,
the occasional gull
drops low for a quick bite
then up again in flight.

I imagine a Passamaquoddy
in an open boat
paddling easily over rippling water,
wind at his back,

no mowers,
wankers in lounge chairs—
gin and tonics

or scotch on the rocks in hand—
laughing at their own jokes,
watching from promenades
off stately mansions on the shore.

Just a lone man in a handmade canoe
moving into gathering dusk,
maybe thinking
of the basket of steamers
he harvested

or the striper he speared
with one quick thrust
or being home
with his family
just a few strokes away.

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