Oh the swamp people were
truly
One of a kind
Behind their curtains
Sly eyes slid
Across the room to tell
To beckon, come see,
whatever it was
They could watch from
Behind their dingy
curtains.
Swamp people live damply
Clinging to past
thoughts, ways gone
But stuck wetly to their
"innards"
Rotted teeth and little
minds
Stumps and old vines cut
off
But spreading anyway in
dumb regret
For the old and sallow
ways
Swamp people hold grudges
And live fleetingly,
stealful
Behind their silly,
useless curtains.
Walk that way and watch
The curtains move...
Slightly.
cailin raine
I wrote this when I lived at Greenock Swamp near Walkerton. This is exaggerated of course, but the country folk in that area were pretty old-fashioned, a bit nosy, and prone to gossip. On one of my many walks I did see a curtain move, and it gave me the idea for this piece. It was while living here that I watched the movie, "Children Of The Corn" with my daughter, Tanis. Then driving late at night we were on a gravel road between huge fields with very tall corn, and a couple of disheveled souls were out walking with clubs in their hands. Well that was pretty scary and uncommonly weird. I can't read this piece without thinking about those people out walking after midnight...
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