Bound to Hear

Bound to Hear
 
Who’s there?
 
We found the old tape
labeled “Squirrels and Econfina Creek”
in his things,
almost threw it out,
but ran it, finally, through
a few new evolutions
of technology
and there he was,
alive,
and there we were,
younger, slightly less
alive than he, but eating
from his hand
—we knew that much—
while we could.
 
This ghost drinks Busch, shucks oysters.
This ghost trolls the creeks for wild life.
This ghost knew, his whole life, just
one answer to The Question: to be.
 
Speak of it. Stay and speak. Stop…
 
He calls out time and temperature;
he names the squirrels.
The day is always another
beautiful day in Bay County
and, after each of our names,
he appends a Belle.
 
 
S. Robbins    R.I.P Willard, and Harley, and a whole way of life in Panhandle Paradise

2 Comments on “Bound to Hear”

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