© 2009
“*”
Without a ripple this jetty
full steam and though whales
will clear their throat
the gull can’t hear it’s next
struts on bedrock that already
twice a day surfaces
spits out the cooling skim
from molten iron and salt
--you dive into these rocks
for more light, more lift
and your feathers struggling
with that first shriek
that lasts forever in your sides
--for a split second
you build a nest
as if seaweed never dries
--the stench from open wounds
is nothing, claws and now a beak
no hands, nothing
--only your arms know the plunge
from a soft warm face
into her eyes and terrifying love
washed ashore, wait
wave after wave, expect
that sobbing tilt the Earth
never forgot --by instinct
you hollow out this rock
into its painful seasons
face the same direction and fly.
2009 Wood Coin: You’ve Reely Scored a Movie Issue: Perchik, “*”