Hunting the Cotaco Creek
His hand in hold so trigger-tight its blood
believes in ghosts. It clings with finger set
on steel and waits inside a dream of ducks.
The twilight burns into a rising arc
of eastern sky as sun reveals herself
too proud and instantly receives full-face
a splash of mallard flock. A shotgun blasts
the yellow into streaming pinks and gives
the creek its new-day taste of echoed blood.
Two green head ghosts fly through the pulse of dawn
upon a trigger’s touch. The creek empties
of sound. In silence human fingers find
wet feet of web and carry in each hand
a bird whose only cry comes in color.
Copyright Credit: Charles Ghigna, “Hunting the Cotaco Creek” from Speaking in Tongues. Copyright © 1994 by Charles Ghigna. Reprinted by permission of Charles Ghigna.
Source: Speaking in Tongues (Livingston University Press, 1994)