Mudlark

Mudlark

When my grandfather first dreamed
of America he changed
and to mark the event he changed
his last name from Cyanoleuca
to Cyanoluchia,
meaning one who sings
with the mucking mud.

His village was made of mud.
He played in mud.
Everyone dabbled, worked and lived
in mud.
He sang his mud into the shape
of visionary statements rising out
of the clay he sculpted
making fascinating shapes to stand
in the heat
baked light until they morphed into
the crusty gray bread
of his constructions, able to stand
without his help.

When he illegally snuck into America
he left them where they stood.
I'm told the rain has changed them.
Moss grows up their sides and they look
like kayaks making ready
to sail into the sky.

Scott Malby

Posted over on Ragged Edge