Maringouin (poem)

The weather almost captured
our Rupert House canoe in the slush
of Moose River waves thrusting
themselves against our starboard side

and a desperate course took us
into a small bay. Clambering ashore in
shades of Gilligan’s Island
we breached a spit of swampy land

shivering under the weight of three
worn out people
thankful to be alive
escaping the anger of fast flowing river
and before we caught an extra breath
droning carried our gaze
away from immediate needs and

the first in a string of bites like spears
penetrated not just the first wall of skin but
enabled through all three layers in a
cacophony of pain. We slapped and yelped
around in circles
the second and third waves descended
until we could remain no longer

and rushing headlong into the shallows
jumped into the boat and paddled
furiously into more of those plunging waves.
We did survive its turmoil
but mosquito bite itching lasted
a very long time.

© Richard L. Provencher