Something & Nothing
The great blue heron rises above the marshes,
landing on the elbow of a branch, extending the question
mark of its neck. It blends into the reeds & seems
to follow us. It is our honor to continue to see it
on this level. Jurassic Park is here, in Stowe,
on the Assabet River. The flowers bloom on the surface,
Watershield & lotus, content in their perfected
environment. Loosestrife teems & is poorly named.
Cattails lift their heads by bluebottles & turtles
puff watersmoke. We row morning together,
head for some coffee. Our friend has to leave for a Zoom.
Her husband says, Administration...they have nothing
but think it’s something. They call us all during Corona.
He says, If they are on the phone, tell them it is summer,
so we are on the river in our kayaks. & if they keep talking?
Tell them I am in Bermuda, in the pool. & if they ask you
What are you doing? Nothing. Tell them, I am
looking at a cloud. Thirty minutes ago, I think I saw a horse in it.
But what if they say there is a meeting? Ask, Do I have to
be there? If they say, no? Then, fuck off.
Max Heinegg lives and teaches in Medford, MA. His poems have appeared in The Cortland Review, 32 Poems, Thrush, Nimrod, and Love's Executive Order.