Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal

In My Bones

Robert M. Kennedy


I know I’m home
In these moonchilled woods.

I’ve seen the white coast of the Gulf, bleached so bright
It hurt my eyes. There’s nowhere to go

Once you get there. So here I’ll stay, at least
‘Til the bluegill play out in Payne’s Creek.

A cloak of foxgrape covers the barbed wire
Down by the cattlegap gate.

Untethered,
My old horse grazes.

***

Robert Morris Kennedy is a Florida native, and night city editor in Tampa for the St. Petersburg Times. His poetry and fiction have appeared in The Berkeley Monthly, The Tampa Review, Willow Review, Freefall, Samisdat, City Miner, Avatar Review and Blue Collar Review, and his poems have been accepted for upcoming editions of Penwood Review and Hidden Oak.

© Robert M. Kennedy

Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal ISSN 1554-8449, Copyright © 2004-2012