a poem in my pocket

crickets ‘n crawdads sing off-key
in surreal dream left condemned
on river surrounded by marshland
of carolina’s backwaters…look away
like empty windows that stare coldly
as lonely boat cradles dead body in
hull…cut memory loose, let it drift
through mind’s dark tunnel beyond
plaster and bricks’ clayed dilapidation

Written in response to d’verse ekphrastic prompt featuring art by Lee Madgwick. The previous evening, I’d watched the film, “Where Crawdads Sing,”based on book by same title.