Richard L. Matta
Metal Detecting
Fog swaddles the restless seam where river joins sea. The breeze soughs reminders of infidelity. A blue heron’s wings are smeared with mud—a cracked acoustic guitar with broken strings. For a moment, I think of the maw of desire’s clock as if there’s a hidden field of hooks in the deep fog. A boozy boat breaks the whiteness like a specter drifting through a passageway. I imagine the caterwauling about their catches. Then, an unexpected ping.
heron's belly
a flash of sunbeam
strikes the ring
About the Author
Richard L. Matta grew up in New York’s Hudson Valley, attended university, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego. Some of his haiku, tanka and haibun are in Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Akitsu Quarterly, Bottle Rockets, and Presence. His long-form poetry is found in various journals, including Gyroscope, Dewdrop, Ancients Path, and Healing Muse.