Everglades — Susanna Lang
Jungjin Lee
Beneath the cypress, dark
sucks out all the air, and
*
Glimmer of light on water.
The photographer’s feet are wet
but she will not notice until
she has already turned back, after
*
The egret will emerge later, caught between
that impenetrable black and the shining
water, wings widespread to carry
its slender neck, legs that dangle,
a brief fan
*
White, no touch of darkness, no taint
*
In its own world it is an ordinary
beauty. Nothing in this place
takes notice, except perhaps
*
When a white bird rises from darkness,
even if it cannot know who else
might also see because
the photographer sees, is it
anything more than
***
Susanna Lang’s most recent collection of poems, Travel Notes from the River Styx, was released by Terrapin Books this summer. Her last collection was Tracing the Lines (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2013). A two-time Hambidge fellow, she has published original poems and translations from the French in such journals as Little Star, New Letters, december, Blue Lyra Review, Prime Number Magazine and Poetry East. She lives in Chicago and teaches in the Chicago Public Schools.